AMERICA 


BOO 

CLAR 

CARSO 


T 


PERRY  and  BEEBE 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


THE  COLLECTION  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINIANA 

FROM  THE  UBRARY  OF 

Archibald  Henderson 

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FOR  USE  ONLY  IN 
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Form  No.  A-368 


THE    FOUR    GREAT    AMERICANS   SERIES 

BIOGRAPHICAL  STORIES  FOR  YOUNG  READERS 

Edited  by  James  Baldwin,  Ph,D, 


FOUR    AMERICAN    PIONEERS 


The  Four  Great  Americans  Series 

Edited  by  James  Baldwin,  Ph.D. 

BIOGRAPHICAL  STORIES  OF  GREAT  AMERICANS  FOR 
YOUNG  AMERICAN   READERS 

I.     Four  Great  Americans 

George  Washington  Benjamin  Franklin 

Daniel  Webster  Abraham  Lincoln 

By  James  Baldwin,  Ph.D. 

Cloth.  Illustrated.  246  pages. 

II.     Four  American  Patriots 

Patrick  Henry  Alexander  Hamilton 

Andrew  Jackson  Ulysses  S.  Grant 

By  Alma  Holman  Burton 
Author  of  "The  Story  of  Our  Country,"  'Xafayette,"  etc. 


Cloth. 

Illustrated.                256  pages. 

III. 

Four  American  Naval  Heroes 

Paul  Jones  Oliver  H,  Perry 
David  G.  Farragut                                 George  Dewey 

By  Mabel  Borton  Beebe 

Cloth. 

Illustrated.                254  pages. 

IV. 

Four  American  Poets 

William  Cullen  Bryant  Henry  W.  Longfellow 
John  G.  Whittier                       Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 

By  Sherwin  Cody 

Cloth. 

Portraits.                254  pages. 

V. 

Four  Famous  American  Writers 

Washington  Irving  Edgar  Allan  Poe 
James  Russell  Lowell                          Bayard  Taylor 

By  Sherivin  Cody 

Cloth. 

Portraits.                 256  pages. 

VI. 

Four  American  Pioneers 

Daniel  Boone  George  Rogers  Clark 
David  Crockett                              Kit  Carson 

By  Frances  M.  Perry  and  Katherine  Beebe 

Cloth. 

Illustrated.                 256  pages. 

VII. 

Great  American  Educators 

Horace  Mann  Mary  Lyon 

David  P.  Page  Heur>' Barnard,  ^^  a/ 

By  A.  E.    Winship,  Litt.D. 

OTHER   VOLUMES   IN   PREPARATION 


FOUR  AMERICAN 
PIONEERS 

DANIEL    BOONE 

GEORGE    ROGERS   CLARK 

DAVID    CROCKETT 

KIT    CARSON 

A  Book  for  Young  Americans 

BY 

FRANCES    M.    PERRY 

AND 

KATHERINE    BEEBE 


AMERICAN    BOOK    COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  CINCINNATI  CHICAGO 


Copyright,  1900, 
By  Werner  School  Book  Company 


PIONEERS 
E-P   13 


CONTENTS 


THE   STORY   OF    DANIEL    BOONE 


PAGE 


CHAPTER 

I.  Childhood n 

II.  A  Young  Hunter i4 

III.  Westward  Ho  ! ,    •  ^7 

IV.  A  Second  Robinson  Crusoe         .         .        .  21 
V.  East  Again 25 

VI.  Preparing  the  Way 28 

VII.  The  New  Kentucky  Home       .         .         .         .31 

VIII.  Indian  Hostilities        .         .         .         .         «  35 

IX.  Boone  Made  Prisoner 39 

X.  Captivity  and  Escape  .         .         .         «         «  42 

XI.  Preparations  for  the  Siege    .         ,         .         .46 

XII.  The  Siege  of  Boonesborough     ...  49 

XIII.  Dark  Days 55 

XIV.  Old  Age 61 

5 


CONTENTS. 


THE   STORY   OF    GEORGE    ROGERS    CLARK 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Boyhood  and  Youth          «        ....     73 

II.     "Kentucki" 75 

III,  The  Conquest  of  Illinois        .        .        .        .80 

IV.  Colonel  Clark  and  the  Indians          .        .         89 
V.     Indian  Treaties 95 

VI.     Vincennes 10 1 

VII.  Through  the  "Drowned  Lands"     .         .         .105 

VIII.  The  Capture  of  Fort  Sackville          .         .       no 

EX.     The  Delaware  Indians 118 

X.  Back  in  Kentucky         .         .         .         .         .120 

XL  Lochry's  Defeat        .        o         o        .         .         .124 

XII.  Border  Troubles  .        .        ,        .        .        .126 

XIII.     After  the  War 128 


CONTENTS.  7 

THE   STORY   OF    DAVID    CROCKETT 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A  Neglected  Child   ......  135 

II.  A  Homesick  Boy     ..o        ...       138 

III.  A  Runaway         .        .        .        .        o        .        .  142 

IV.  A  Hired  Hand 145 

V.  A  Householder  .         .         .         .         »         .         .150 

VI.  A  Soldier        .         ,        »        .        „        .        .154 

VII.  A  Leading  Citizen     .         .         ,         .         ,         -158 

VIII.  A  Bear  Hunter      .         ,         o        ,        .        .       165 

IX.     A  Congressman  . ' 172 

X.     A  Traveler 175 

XI.  A  Daring  Adventurer        .        .        .        „         .179 

XII.    A  Hero  of  the  Alamo 188 


8  CONTENTS. 

THE   STORY    OF    KIT    CARSON 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Preparation         .        ,        »        o        .        .         .  197 

II.  Getting  a  Start     .         .        .        .        .        .       201 

III.  Trapping  in  California 207 

IV.  The  Second  Expedition          .        .         .        .       215 
V.     Free  Trapping 221 

VI.     Fair  and  Camp 225 

VII.     Hunting  in  the  Rockies 230 

Vin.     Carson  and  Fremont 237 

IX.     West  with  Fremont 242 

X.     Again  on  the  March 245 

XL    At  Home 249 


THE      STORY      OF 
DANIEL       BOONE 


By    FRANCES    M.    PERRY 


DANIEL  BOONE. 


DANIEL   BOONE 

THE   HERO    OF    KENTUCKY 


I. — Childhood. 


When  Daniel  Boone  was  a  child  the  land  west  of  the 
Alleghanies  was  a  wilderness  inhabited  only  by  Indians. 
But  in  Virginia,  and  other  places  east  of  the  mountains, 
there  were  fine  houses  with  broad  porches  and  large, 
richly-furnished  rooms  There  stately  men  in  powdered 
wigs  and  knee-breeches,  and  queenly  dames  in  stiff 
brocades  and  high-heeled  shoes,  lived  and  brought  up 
little  American  boys  and  girls  after  the  fashion  of  their 
English  cousins. 

However,  it  was  not  in  such  a  house  nor  among  such 
people  that  Daniel  Boone  learned  to  walk,  and  talk,  and 
think.  His  father  was  a  poor  man  who  Kved  in  a  rude 
log  cabin  on  the  outskirts  of  a  dark  forest  in  Pennsyl- 
vania.    There  Daniel  spent  his  happy  childhood. 

The  cabin  was  small,  but  that  made  it  very  snug  in 
winter  when  the  snow  was  blowing  outside  and  the  logs 
were  blazing  in  the  great  stone  fireplace.  And  in  sum- 
mer, if  there  was  not  room  enough  for  the  large  family 

II 


12  DANIEL   BOONE. 

in  the  small  house,  there  was  plenty  of  space  out  of 
doors.  The  little  folks  in  that  humble  home  were  not 
fed  on  pies  and  cakes,  but  they  had  an  abundance  of 
plain  food  which  makes  strong  muscles;  and  sharp 
appetites  gave  it  flavor.  The  beds  were  hard,  but  all 
slept  too  soundly  to  think  of  that. 

The  rough  hunter  loved  his  children  fondly.  When 
he  came  home  from  a  day's  hunt  and  Daniel  toddled 
down  the  path  to  meet  him,  he  tossed  the  sturdy  little 
fellow  upon  his  shoulder  and  let  him  examine  the  heavy 
flint-lock  with  eager  baby  fingers.  Or  perhaps  he  had 
brought  a  shy  rabbit  or  cunning  squirrel  to  his  boy,  just 
as  your  father  sometimes  brings  a  ball  or  a  toy  to  your 
younger  brother. 

Daniel  loved  animals  and  had  no  fear  of  them. 
These  tiny  creatures  of  the  woods  were  his  play- 
fellows, and  his  father's  hunting-dogs  were  his  com- 
rades. 

As  soon  as  he  was  old  enough  he  went  with  his 
brothers  and  sisters  to  the  log  schoolhouse  to  learn  to 
read  and  write.  The  schoolroom  was  small,  dark,  and 
comfortless.  The  master  was  cross  and  unjust.  The 
place  seemed  like  a  prison  to  Daniel. 

He  was  glad  to  shun  such  a  place  and  plunge  into  the 
forest  with  his  gun  on  his  shoulder  and  his  dog  at  his 
heels.  There  he  felt  free  and  happy.  Long,  soHtary 
tramps  through  the  woods  in  quest  of  game  were  his 
greatest    pleasure.      He    was    usually    so    successful    in 


CHILDHOOD. 


13 


hunting  that  his  father  made  no  objection  to  his  staying 
away  from  school. 

The  youthful  hunter  might  have  been  hurt  or 
lost  while  on  these  lonely  rambles,  but  he  rarely  had  a 
mishap ;  for  he  was  as  cautious  as  he  was  brave.  His 
habit  of  hunting  alone 
made  him  observing  and 
self-reKant,  for  there  was 
no  one  to  whom  he  could 
go  for  advice  when  in 
trouble. 

When    exploring    new    re- 
gions in  fair  weather  he  was 
guided    by    the     sun ;     and 
when   the   day   was   dark   and 
cloudy  the   thick  moss  on  the 
north   side    of    the   tree-trunks 
told    him    which    way    to    go. 
He  rarely  needed  such  guides, 
however,  for,  Hke  the  wild  animals,  he 
seemed  to  know  his  way  by  instinct. 

He  soon  knew  the  forest  for  miles       a  hunter's  equip- 
around.     He  could  name  the  trees  at  ment. 

a  distance  from  the  color  of  their  leaves.  In  the  winter 
he  knew  them  by  their  bark,  their  manner  of  branching, 
and  their  forms.  He  could  find  the  finest  nuts  and  the 
most  luscious  berries.  He  knew  the  tiniest  wild  flowers, 
and  where  and  when  to  look  for  them. 


14  DANIEL    BOONE. 

He  was  very  much  interested  in  animals,  and  studied 
their  haunts  and  habits.  He  became  a  good  marksman, 
for  he  could  keep  a  cool  head  and  a  steady  hand  at  the 
most  exciting  moment. 

He  knew  many  Indians;  he  visited  their  tents;  ate 
their  food;  hunted  with  them;  traveled  with  them;  and 
learned  their  customs,  their  tricks,  and  their  character. 

Thus,  while  other  American  boys  were  being  schooled 
in  English  manners  and  were  being  prepared  to  meet 
the  British  on  equal  terms  and  defeat  them,  Daniel 
Boone  was  taking  the  lessons  in  forest  lore  and  Indian 
craft  that  were  to  fit  him  to  subdue  the  wilderness  and 
vanquish  the  red  man. 


II. — A  Young  Hunter. 

Daniel  Boone  grew  to  manhood  without  caring  much 
for  the  peaceful,  industrious  habits  of  civilization. 
Farming  he  did  not  like.  Business  and  politics  were 
uninteresting.  He  was  even  indifferent  to  the  war  with 
the  French  and  Indians,  which  was  then  exciting  his 
countrymen.  Hunting  claimed  the  most  of  his  time 
and  attention.  He  was  an  ideal  hunter,  having  been 
fitted  by  nature  and  training  for  that  life  at  a  period 
when  hunting  was  not  a  sport,  but  a  serious  occupa- 
tion. 

Though  not  unusually  tall,  he  was  finely  formed.    He 


A   YOUNG    HUNTER. 


^5 


had  the  grace  and  freedom  of  a  strong  man  who  has 
plenty  of  the  right  kind  of  exercise.  His  broad,  deep 
chest  showed  that  he  could  run  very  fast  without  getting 
out  of  breath  or  panting.  His  light  springing  step 
carried  him  over  the  ground  so  swiftly  and  easily  that 
men  hurrying  along  the  road  behind  him  were  sur- 
prised to  see  how  fast  the  distance  between  them 
increased. 

When  necessary  he  could  work  harder  and  longer 
without  food  or  rest  than  other  men.  No  Indian  was 
more  quick  and  nimble  or  more  artful  and  cunning 
than  Boone  when  he  was  trying  to  outwit  an  enemy  or 
surprise  timid  game. 

He  had  a  fine  head  and  his  face  was  by  no  means 
commonplace.  The  high  forehead,  the  clear,  calm  eyes 
and  the  firm  mouth,  all  told  of  a  manly  courage  to 
which  imprudence  and  fear  were  equally  impossible. 

In  his  disposition  he  was  kind  and  accommodating, 
and  his  friends  and  relatives  respected  and  admired  the 
quiet  youth,  of  whose  skill  and  strength  wonderful 
stories  were  told.  Of  course  there  were  fault-finding 
strangers  who  did  not  think  so  well  of  him,  but  criti- 
cised his  rough  clothes  and  called  him  stupid  because 
he  was  not  interested  in  the  same  subjects  that  they 
were. 

It  made  little  difference  to  Daniel  Boone  whether 
people  liked  or  disliked  his  conduct,  so  long  as  he  could 
forget  the  rest  of  the  world  in  the  old  forest  with  its 


1 6  DANIEL   BOONE. 

woody  odors,  its  deep  silences,  and  numberless  living 
creatures.  But  when  at  last  the  sound  of  the  woodman's 
ax  began  to  rival  the  report  of  the  hunter's  gun  in  his 
beloved  forest,  and  the  frontiersman's  cabin  and  corn- 
field appeared  in  the  clearings,  he  became  dissatisfied. 
He  did  not  like  to  see  his  hunting  grounds  turned  into 
farm-lands.  He  was  well  pleased,  therefore,  when  his 
father  decided  to  move  to  a  new  settlement  on  the 
Yadkin  River,  in  North  Carolina,  which  was  reported  to 
be  a  fine  hunting  district. 

There  were  no  railroads  then,  not  even  wagon  roads, 
and  movers  had  to  travel  on  foot  or  on  horseback. 
Fortunately,  they  seldom  had  many  articles  of  sufficient 
value  to  carry  with  them.  When  the  Boone  family 
reached  the  end  of  their  long  journey,  Daniel  helped  his 
father  and  brothers  to  make  a  loghouse  much  like  their 
old  Pennsylvania  home. 

This  cabin  did  not  shelter  him  many  months.  He 
met  a  bright-eyed,  rosy-cheeked  lass  in  the  settlement. 
He  loved  her  so  dearly  that  he  decided  to  build  a  little 
home  of  his  own  if  he  could  only  persuade  the  sweet 
Rebecca  to  be  its  mistress.  He  was  very  happy  when 
he  found  that  she  loved  him  in  return,  and  they  were 
soon  married.  They  went  to  housekeeping  in  a  poor 
but  romantic  cabin  on  the  edge  of  a  beautiful  forest. 

For  a  while  this  forest  furnished  them  with  all  they 
needed,  but  as  more  people  came  to  live  in  the  neigh- 
borhood Daniel  Boone  again  saw  the  game  driven  away 


WESTWARD    HO  ! 


17 


by  advancing  civilization.  He  tried  to  cultivate  the 
soil  and  manage  a  small  farm,  but  he  found  such  work 
much  harder  than  hunting. 

Then,  too,  the  inequality  of  the  settlers  in  wealth  and 
position  distressed  him.  The  rich  had  large  plantations, 
fine  houses,  slaves,  and  luxuries  of  all  kinds.  They 
seemed  to  think  their  wealth  gave  them  rights  which 
their  poor  neighbors  who  dressed  in  deerskins  and  lived 
in  log  cabins  did  not  have.  This  vexed  the  independent 
Boone  and  he  became  unhappy  and  restless. 


III. — Westward  Ho  ! 

Boone  heard  glowing  reports  of  the  hunting-grounds 
beyond  the  mountains,  from  John  Finley,  who  had  been 
there  trading  with  the  Indians.  He  thought  that  such 
a  country  would  be  an  ideal  place  in  which  to  live. 
He  talked  the  matter  over  with  his  friends  and  found 
five  tried  hunters  who  were  willing  to  go  with  him 
on  a  hunting  and  exploring  expedition  through  that 
region. 

So  in  the  spring  of  1769,  when  his  neighbors  were 
hard  at  work  sowing  and  planting,  Daniel  Boone  said 
farewell  to  his  wife  and  children  and  started  for  the 
distant  west. 

He  and  his  companions  were  going  to  a  country 
where  there  were  no  hotels,  no  houses,  not  even  stores 


i8 


DANIEL    BOONE. 


where  they  might  buy  food,  clothing  or  blankets. 
Money  would  be  useless  to  them  there.  Yet  they  car- 
ried with  them  no  provisions  or  other  articles  except 
pow^der  and  bullets,  for  their  rifles  and  hatchets  must 
furnish  them  with  the  necessities  of  life. 

As    they    passed    through    the    settlement    the    people 
came  to   their  doors  to   look   after   the   six  men.     They 


MAP   SHOWING   THE   PLACES    VISITED    BY    BOONE. 


wore  comfortable  deerskin  hunting-suits  trimmed  with 
fringes  of  slashed  deerskin.  On  their  feet  were  stout 
moccasins  of  the  same  material.  Full  powder  horns 
dangled  from  their  belts,  and  every  man  had  a  strong 
hunting-knife,  a  tomahawk,  and  a  rifle. 

All  the  boys  who  saw  them  on  that  pleasant  spring 
morning  thought  they  looked  very  brave  and  manly  and 
told  their  mothers  that  they  too  would  be  hunters  when 
they  grew  up.     But  the  older  people  shook  their  heads 


WESTWARD    ho!  ig 

and  said  that  it  was  much  better  to  be  a  farmer  or  a  mer- 
chant. And  the  boys  might  have  agreed  with  them  if 
they  could  have  traveled  for  a  day  or  two  with  those 
hunters. 

While  the  weather  was  fair  and  bright  the  hunters 
kept  in  good  spirits.  But  heavy  rains  soon  fell.  The 
mountain  paths  were  muddy  and  slippery.  There  were 
no  bridges,  and  so  they  had  to  cross  the  swollen  moun- 
tain streams  as  best  they  could,  sometimes  wading,  and 
sometimes  floating  themselves  over  on  logs  or  rude  rafts. 

Wet  through,  cold,  often  hungry,  they  could  not  help 
sighing  for  the  comfortable  homes  they  had  left.  But 
they  were  hardy  men,  and  trudged  on  with  no  thought 
of  turning  back. 

The  bad  weather  continued.  As  they  got  deeper 
among  the  wild  and  unexplored  mountains,  the  difficulty 
of  traveling  increased.  They  did  not  know  at  what 
moment  they  might  be  attacked  by  a  band  of  Indians. 
Even  Boone  thought  it  a  most  unpleasant  journey.  He 
called  the  cliffs  ''wild"  and '"horrid"  and  said  it  was 
"impossible  to  behold  them  without  terror."  To  him 
they  looked  like  the  "ruins  of  the  world." 

After  a  month's  hard  tramping  they  reached  the  crest 
of  the  heights  that  overlook  the  rich  plains  of  central 
Kentucky.  As  they  viewed  the  valleys  and  rolling 
forest  lands  below  them  they  felt  rewarded  for  their 
difficult  march.  The  scene  was  beautiful  and  prom- 
ising.    Large    herds   of    buffaloes   were    seen   grazing   on 


20  DANIEL    BOONE. 

the  hillsides  or  browsing  on  the  leaves  in  the  cane- 
brakes.  Deer  and  all  sorts  of  choice  game  assured  them 
of  abundant  food. 

They  built  a  rude  hunters'  lodge  of  logs  and  bark,  as 
a  shelter  from  rain.  This  they  made  their  headquarters. 
In  the  morning  they  started  out  by  twos  and  later  in 
the  day  all  returned  to  the  lodge,  bringing  the  fruits  of 
a  day's  hunt.  In  the  evening  they  cooked  and  ate  a 
hearty  supper  and  told  the  adventures  of  the  day. 

Sometimes  one  reported  that  he  had  seen   signs  of 
Indians.     Then  all  were  cautious  for  a  short  time.     x\s 
they  became  acquainted  with  the  neighboring  country 
they  took  longer  trips,  meeting  less  often  at  the  lodge. 
In  this  way  they  spent  the  summer  and  fall. 

A  few  days  before  Christmas,  as  Daniel  Boone  and  a 
single  companion  were  enjoying  a  ramble  through  a 
beautiful  section  of  the  country,  rich  in  game  and 
timber,  they  were  waylaid  by  a  party  of  fifteen  Indians. 
It  was  useless  to  make  resistance,  and  they  were  over- 
powered and  made  prisoners. 

Boone  knew  the  Indian  character  well.  He  knew 
that  the  savages  would  probably  kill  them  if  they  were 
troublesome  or  disagreeable,  and  so  he  acted  as  if  he 
were  well  pleased  with  his  new  life.  His  friend  fol- 
lowed his  example;  and  when  the  Indians  found  that 
the  prisoners  could  march  just  as  far  as  they  them- 
selves could,  that  they  could  go  as  long  without  food, 
always  appeared  contented,  and  never  tried  to  get  away, 


A    SECOND    ROBINSON    CRUSOE.  21 

tliey  thought  them  very  brave  fellows  and  did  not  watch 
them  so  closely. 

On  the  seventh  night  after  they  had  been  made  pris- 
oners, Boone  saw  that  they  were  unwatched.  While 
all  the  Indians  were  sleeping  he  roused  his  companion 
and,  seizing  their  rifles,  the  two  stole  away.  When  the 
Indians  awoke  next  morning,  their  former  prisoners 
were  already  far  on  their  way  toward  the  old  lodge. 


IV. — A  Second  Robinson  Crusoe. 

The  fugitives  hastened  to  the  old  meeting  place 
expecting  to  find  friends  and  good  cheer.  Instead  they 
found  the  lodge  empty  and  deserted.  At  first  they  were 
Struck  with  dismay.  They  were  full  of  anxiety  for 
their  companions.  They  were  sorry  to  lose  the  valu- 
able skins  they  had  collected.  And  after  their  recent 
experience  with  the  Indians  it  was  not  pleasant  to 
know  that  they  were  the  only  white  men  west  of  the 
mountains. 

But  Daniel  Boone  was  not  the  man  to  be  driven 
from  his  purpose  by  fear  or  discomfort  or  any  ordinary 
disaster.  This  ill-fortune  only  made  him  more  de- 
termined to  succeed.  The  two  men  went  to  work  with 
energy  to  repair  their  loss. 

A  few  days  later,  on  returning  from  a  long  hunt, 
they   saw    two   white    men   approaching    their   camp. 


2  2  DANIEL    BOONE. 

Hurrying  to  welcome  the  new-comers,  Boone  was  sur- 
prised to  meet  his  own  brother,  Squire  Boone.  He  had 
started  with  a  fellow  adventurer  to  explore  the  country 
and  find,  if  possible,  some  trace  of  Daniel.  By  the 
marks  which  the  hunters  had  left  along  the  route,  he 
had  been  able  to  trace  them  to  the  camp. 

You  may  imagine  how  glad  Daniel  Boone  was  to  see 
his  brother  and  hear  from  his  wife  and  children.  And 
you  may  imagine  how  glad  Squire  Boone  was  to  meet 
the  brother  whom  he  had  begun  to  fear  that  he  should 
never  see  again. 

A  larger  fire  than  usual  was  made  that  night  in  the 
little  cabin,  and  the  choicest  game  was  roasted  over 
it  for  the  cold  and  hungry  travelers.  In  talking  over 
their  adventures  and  plans,  all  forgot  that  they  were 
tired,  and  the  fire  burned  low  before  they  went  to  sleep 
in  their  warm  buffalo  robes. 

The  following  days  were  spent  in  hunting  and  ex- 
ploring. The  men  were  cheerful  and  hopeful.  Four 
seemed  to  them  a  goodly  company ;  but  their  number 
was  soon  reduced  again  to  two.  Squire  Boone's  com- 
panion returned  home,  and  Daniel's  friend  was  killed 
by  the  Indians. 

The  brothers  prepared  a  more  comfortable  cabin  for 
their  winter  quarters  and  passed  that  season  in  safety. 
In  the  spring  their  supply  of  powder  and  lead  got  so  low 
that  it  was  necessary  for  one  of  them  to  go  back  to 
Carolina  for  more.      It  was  decided  that  Squire  Boone 


A   SECOND    ROBINSON    CRUSOE.  23 

should  go.  He  started  on  the  first  of  May.  So,  just 
one  year  from  the  day  on  which  Daniel  Boone  had  left 
his  home  and  set  out  for  the  West,  he  was  left  alone 
in  the  wilderness. 

After  his  brother  had  left  he  was  as  lonely  as  Robin- 
son Crusoe.     He  had  not  a  dog  or  a  horse  to  keep  him 


ALONE  AT  THE  HUNTERS  CAMP. 


company.  He  was  in  constant  danger  of  being  cap- 
tured or  shot  by  Indians.  His  only  food  was  game  and 
wild  fruit. 

Few  men  could  have  endured  such  privations.  But 
Boone's  hfe  from  childhood  had  prepared  him  to 
accept  such  circumstances  almost  as  a  matter  of  course. 


24  DANIEL    BOOXE. 

At  first  he  felt  lonesome  and  thought  much  of  his  wife 
and  children,  but  he  had  no  fear. 

He  explored  the  country,  following  the  traces  or 
roads,  made  through  the  cane  by  buffaloes  and  other 
animals,  to  the  salt  licks.  He  traced  streams  to  their 
sources,  named  rivers,  noted  the  forests  and  the  vege- 
table products  of  different  regions,  and  marked  good 
locations  for  settlements.  He  often  traveled  far  from 
his  camp  on  these  occasions  and  slept  under  the  open 
sky.  At  night  he  heard  wolves  howl  and  panthers 
screech,  but  he  knew  they  were  too  well  supplied  with 
game  to  care  to  molest  him. 

He  was  always  on  the  lookout  for  Indians.  He  learned 
that  he  was  in  a  territory  which  was  the  home  of  no 
tribe,  but  the  common  hunting  and  battle  ground  of 
many.  He  knew  that  his  camp  had  been  discovered, 
and  he  feared  it  was  watched;  for  on  returning  to  it  he 
often  found  that  it  had  been  visited. 

In  spite  of  so  many  dangers  he  really  enjoyed  this  life 
better  than  the  uneventful  life  of  a  farmer,  and  never 
regretted  the  step  he  had  taken.  Still  when  three 
months  had  passed  he  began  to  look  rather  uneasily  at 
his  small  store  of  ammunition  and  watch  anxiously  for 
his  brother.  And  he  felt  sincerely  thankful  when  he 
met  him  at  last  in  the  old  camp.  Squire  Boone  brought 
horses,  powder,  lead,  and,  best  of  all,  news  of  the  health 
and  prosperity  of  the  dear  ones  at  home. 

After  another  fall  and  winter  spent  in  hunting  and 


EAST   AGAIN.  2$ 

exploring  the  land  along  the  Cumberland  River,  the 
brothers  returned  to  Carolina.  But  Daniel  Boone  had 
found  the  place  that  he  wished  to  make  his  home  and 
left  it  with  the  expectation  of  returning  soon  with  his 
family  and  friends. 


V. — East  Again. 


Daniel  Boone  did  not  telegraph  to  his  wife  that  he 
was  coming  home,  nor  did  he  write  to  her,  for  you  must 
remember  that  there  was  no  telegraph  then,  and  there 
were  no  mail  coaches  in  that  part  of  the  world.  But  if 
Mrs.  Boone  had  been  getting  ready  for  weeks,  the 
floor  could  not  have  been  whiter,  the  tins  could  not 
have  been  more  shining  bright,  the  fire  could  not  have 
blazed  more  m.errily,  the  corn-bread  could  not  have  been 
lighter,  and  the  children  could  not  have  been  more  trim 
and  neat  than  they  were  on  that  spring  evening  when 
the  weather-beaten  hunter  stood  again  at  his  own  door 
after  an  absence  of  two  years. 

How  overjoyed  they  were  to  see  him  !  No  wonder 
the  brisk  little  woman  in  homespun  let  the  bowl  of  lus- 
cious strawberries  fall  with  a  crash  on  the  clean  floor 
while  she  gave  a  cry  of  delight  and  ran  into  his  out- 
stretched arms.  Then  those  tall,  fine-looking  boys  and 
girls,  who  had  grown  so  that  he  scarcely  knew  them, 
crowded  about  him  and  almost  smothered  him  with 
caresses. 


26  DANIEL   BOONE. 

When  the  news  of  Boone's  return  spread  through  the 
neighborhood,  friends  and  relatives  came  in  to  welcome 
him.  He  was  quite  a  hero.  Every  one  wanted  to 
hear  of  his  adventures  and  learn  about  the  rich  land 
he  had  found.  Mrs.  Boone  was  so  proud  of  her  brave 
husband,  and  so  happy  in  having  him  home  again,  that 
she  forgot  all  about  the  two  long  years  of  hard  work  and 
separation. 

He  gave  such  a  glowing  account  of  Kentucky  that 
all  his  family  thought  it  would  be  fine  to  go  there  and 
were  pleased  to  hear  him  say  that  he  would  take  them 
back  with  him.  Some  of  the  neighbors  said  they  would 
be  glad  to  join  them.  This  was  just  what  Boone 
wanted,  and  he  began  at  once  to  organize  a  party  of 
emigrants  and  prepare  for  the  departure. 

The  farm  had  to  be  sold.  Provision  had  to  be  made 
for  the  comfort  of  women  and  children.  Then,  there 
were  delays  caused  by  people  changing  their  minds 
after  they  had  promised  to  go,  and  more  than  a  year 
passed  before  a  company  of  five  families  was  ready, 
with  cattle  and  household  goods,  to  start  for  the  new 
home  in  the  wilderness. 

They  began  the  journey  in  good  spirits.  In  Powell's 
Valley  they  were  joined  by  forty  men.  The  whole 
party  pressed  eagerly  forward,  full  of  hope.  They  had 
crossed  two  ranges  of  mountains  and  were  nearing  the 
third  when  those  in  front  were  startled  by  rifle  reports 
in  the  rear. 


EAST   AGAIN.  27 

They  turned  back  and  found  that  the  young  men 
driving  the  cattle  had  been  attacked  by  a  band  of  In- 
dians. The  emigrants  charged  upon  the  savages  and 
drove  them  away.  But  six  of  their  boys  had  fallen  in 
the  first  fire.  , 

Among  those  killed  was  Daniel  Boone's  eldest  son. 
Overcome  with  grief  and  fear,  the  party  would  not  go 
on.      Boone,  therefore,  led  them  back  to  the  settlements 


OI.D   FI^INT  IvOCK  RIFI,E  USED  BY  BOONE. 


on  the  Clinch  River.  Here,  still  far  from  his  promised 
land,  he  staid  with  his  family  until   1774. 

The  fame  of  Boone's  explorations  in  Kentucky 
reached  the  ears  of  the  governor  of  Virginia,  who  at 
that  time  had  a  party  of  surveyors  working  along  the 
Ohio  River.  The  Indians  had  become  so  hostile  that 
these  men  dared  not  come  back  the  way  they  had  gone, 
and  it  was  dangerous  for  them  to  stay  where  they  were. 

The  governor  requested  Boone  to  go  to  the  Falls  of 
the  Ohio  to  find  and  conduct  them  home,  overland.  He 
was  glad  to  do  this  and  set  forth  at  once  with  one  com- 
panion. About  two  months  later  he  returned  to  the  set- 
tlement with  the  surveyors,  having  made  the  journey 
of  eight  hundred  miles  through  a  country  without  roads 
in  sixty-two  days. 


28  DANIEL   BOONE. 

A  little  later  the  governor  made  him  captain  of  three 
garrisons,  and  sent  him  to  fight  the  Indians.  A  treaty  of 
peace  soon  put  an  end  to  the  hostilities  between  Virginia 
and  the  Indians,  and  Daniel  Boone  was  again  without 
employment,  but  not  for  long. 


VI. — Preparing  the  Way. 

A  company  of  rich  men  in  North  Carolina  thought 
they  might  increase  their  wealth  by  buying  a  large  tract 
of  land  in  famous  Kentucky  and  selling  it  off  to  settlers 
in  small  farms.  They  would  first  have  to  buy  the  land 
of  the  Indians. 

As  Daniel  Boone  knew  all  about  the  land,  they  wished 
him  to  take  charge  of  this  part  of  the  business.  Accord- 
ingly he  went,  in  their  behalf,  to  a  council  of  Indians 
and  bought  the  land  on  terms  satisfactory  to  both  Indians 
and  white  men. 

After  the  treaty  was  made  an  old  Indian  shook  hands 
with  Boone  and  said:  "We  have  given  you  a  fine 
country,  brother,  but  you  will  have  trouble  to  settle  it." 

The  men  who  had  bought  the  land  wished  to  see  it 
occupied.  In  order  to  encourage  movers  to  go  there 
they  wished  to  have  a  road  opened  and  a  fort  built. 
Boone  was  put  in  charge  of  this  undertaking.  A  better 
man  for  the  work  could  not  have  been  found.  He  had  a 
personal  interest  in  it,  for  the  road  was  to  be  traveled 


PREPARING    THE    WAY. 


29 


by  his  own  family  and  the  fort  would  protect  them  in 
their  new  home. 

At  the  head  of  a  band  of  well-armed  workmen,  hired 
for  thirty-three  cents  a  day,  he  commenced  the  work 
promptly.  It  went  forward  rapidly,  for  the  road  was  no 
more  than  a  rude  path,  marked  and  cleared  so  that  a 
line  of  pack   horses   might   travel  over  it.     Although 


THE  FORT   AT  BOONESBOROUGH. 


always  on  the  lookout  for  an  attack  from  the  Indians, 
the  road-makers  were  not  molested  until  they  had  nearly 
completed  their  work.  When  within  fifteen  miles  of 
the  place  which  Boone  had  decided  upon  for  the  station, 
the  party  was  fired  upon  by  Indians.  Though  the  white 
men  finally  drove  the  savages  away,  two  of  their  num- 
ber were  killed  and  two  wounded. 

Three  days  later  the  Indians  made  a  second  assault. 


30  DANIEL   BOONE. 

That  time  Boone  lost  two  more  of  his  men  and  three 
were  wounded.  This  resistance  only  roused  the  deter- 
mined leader  to  put  forth  greater  effort  to  finish  the 
road  and  build  a  strong  fort  to  defend  his  employers' 
property  against  the  claims  of  men  who,  he  thought, 
had  no  right  to  it. 

On  the  first  day  of  April,  1775,  they  began  to  build  a 
fort  near  a  salt  lick  about  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet 
south  of  the  Kentucky  River.  While  busy  with  this 
work,  which  was  not  completed  until  the  middle  of 
June,  they  lost  one  man.  When  finished,  the  station 
was  named,  in  honor  of  the  man  to  whom  it  owed  its 
existence,  Boonesborough. 

The  fame  of  the  fertility  of  Kentucky  had  spread,  and 
several  parties  of  Virginians  ventured  that  year  to  cross 
the  mountains  and  visit  the  wonderful  hunting-ground. 

Their  object  was  to  claim  lands  for  future  settlement. 
For  Virginia,  the  state  to  which  the  territory  of  Ken- 
tucky belonged,  had  offered  four  hundred  acres  of  land 
to  every  one  who  would  clear  a  portion  of  it,  raise  a  crop 
of  Indian  corn,  and  build  a  rude  cabin. 

The  settlers  did  not  fell  the  large  trees,  but  cut  the 
bark  so  that  they  would  die.  Then  having  cleared 
away  the  underbrush,  planted  corn,  and  put  up  rude 
huts  on  desirable  tracts  of  land,  most  of  them  went 
back  to  their  homes  in  the  Bast.  These  men  expected 
to  sell  or  use  their  lands  when  the  country  was  better 
settled  and  less  dangerous. 


THE    NEW    KENTUCKY    HOME. 


31 


Daniel  Boone  had  no  thought  of  getting  rich  by  claim- 
ing and  selling  Kentucky  lands.  To  him  it  seemed  a 
good  place  for  a  home  just  as  it  was. 

As  soon  as  the  fort  was  completed  he  left  it  in  charge  of 
a  few  men  and  returned  to  the  settlement  on  the  Clinch 
River,  to  move  his  family  to  the  home  he  had  prepared 
for  them. 


VII. — The  New  Kentucky  Home. 

Boone  was  a  happy  man  when  he  said  good-by  to  the 
quiet  little  community  east  of  the  Cumberland  Moun- 
tains and  set  forth  with  his  wife  and  children  for  the 
land  he  loved. 

It  took  much  courage  for  Mrs.  Boone  to  leave  home 
and  friends  and  attempt  a  second  time  the  perilous  jour- 
ney through  the  wilderness  from  Clinch  River  to  Boones- 
borough.  But  she  was  a  brave  woman,  and,  if  her  heart 
was  heavy  with  sorrow  and  fear  when  she  passed  the  spot 
where,  two  years  before,  her  eldest  boy  was  shot,  she  hid 
her  grief,  and  her  husband  did  not  know  that  she  was 
less  happy  than  he.  She  noticed  the  beautiful  scenery 
and  spoke  of  the  fine  air. 

Where  the  way  was  broad  enough,  Daniel  Boone  rode 
beside  her.  His  happiness  made  him  more  talkative 
than  usual,  and  he  pointed  out  objects  of  interest  or 
related  some  adventure  that  had  befallen  him  here  or 
there  along  the  road.     Then  he  spoke  of  the  new  fort 


32 


DANIEL    BOONE. 


THE    NEW    KENTUCKY    HOME.  33 

and  told  how  strong  it  was  and  how  safe  they  would  be 
from  the  Indians  when  they  reached  it.  Thus  he  talked 
until  the  entire  company  shared  his  enthusiasm. 

But  all  the  time  he  was  on  the  alert.  No  stragglers 
were  allowed  to  linger  behind  the  company  or  stray 
aside  to  fall  victims  to  Indian  cunning,  and  all  reached 
Boonesborough  in  safety  and  with  high  hopes. 

How  beautiful  the  new  home  was!  The  world  seemed 
so  grand  and  free  and  all  their  own.  Mrs.  Boone  and 
her  daughter  stood  on  the  banks  of  the  Kentucky  and 
felt  a  thrill  of  pride  when  Daniel  Boone  told  them  that 
they  would  be  remembered  in  history  as  the  first  white 
women  to  behold  that  stream. 

Everything  was  new  and  unusual.  They  were  inter- 
ested in  the  curious  animals  and  strange  plants.  They 
felt  the  charm  that  he  had  felt,  and  were  glad  to  be 
there.  Then,  too,  they  thought  themselves  so  safe 
when  once  inside  of  the  great  palisade.  Before  the 
novelty  wore  off  and  before  they  had  time  to  be  lone- 
some other  families  joined  them. 

The  station  consisted  of  several  cabins  opening  on  a 
hollow  square  and  surrounded  by  a  wall  about  twelve 
feet  high,  made  of  stout  posts,  sharpened  and  planted 
firmly  in  the  earth.  At  the  corners  were  projecting, 
strong  blockhouses. 

In  the  daytime  the  men  went  outside  of  the  palisade 
to  hunt,  and  plant  or  tend  their  corn.  The  women 
went  to  and  from   the  spring  for  water.      The  children 


34 


DANIEL   BOONE. 


played  about  the  gate.  The  cattle  browsed  on  the  tender 
cane  leaves.  But  at  night  all  assembled  within  the 
sheltering  walls. 

Each  of  the  families  had  a  separate  cabin.  Five  or 
six  of  the  men  who  had  no  families  clubbed  together  in 
a  single  dwelling.  Living  so  close  together  and  having 
the  same  interests  all  were  as  well  acquainted  and  friendly 
as  one  great  family. 

And  what  good  times  they  had  in  the  evening  after 
the  day's  work!  Such  feasts,  such  fiddling,  such  danc- 
ing and  singing  !  Never  was  fairy  tale  listened  to  with 
such  breathless  interest  as  were  the  adventures  of  those 
daring  hunters.  With  plenty  of  work  to  keep  them 
busy  by  day,  and  frolics  and  story-telling  for  the  even- 
ing hours,  they  had  little  time  to  regret  old  friends  and 
little  occasion  to  fear  the  Indians. 

This  tranquillity  was  interrupted  and  the  Christmas 
cheer  of  the  pioneers  was  changed  to  sorrow  and  appre- 
hension, for  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  December  one 
of  their  number  was  wounded  and  another  killed  by 
prowling  savages. 

After  that  they  were  left  in  peace  for  some  time. 
Their  cane-fed  cattle  gave  them  the  most  delicious 
cream,  butter,  and  cheese.  The  women  and  boys  worked 
in  February  and  March  making  maple  sugar,  which  the 
children  said  was  almost  as  good  as  the  golden  honey 
that  the  wild  bees  had  stored  for  them  in  the  old  for- 
est trees.     Crops  flourished.     The  salt  licks  furnished 


INDIAN    HOSTILITIES.  35 

good  ^alt.  The  wild  animals  provided  them  with  meat 
and  skins.  In  short,  nature  cherished  them  in  rude 
plenty,  and  they  were  happy  and  prosperous  in  their 
new  home.  Their  experience  had  encouraged  others  to 
follow  their  example,  and  several  stations  sprang  up  in 
the  vicinity. 


VIII. — Indian  Hostilities. 

No  signs  of  the  Indians  had  been  seen  for  some  time. 
The  boys  began  to  call  them  cowards  and  to  boast  what 
they  would  do  if  one  dared  to  venture  on  their  land. 
Even  the  older  people  had  begun  to  feel  rather  secure. 
But  one  evening  in  July  on  returning  from  a  hunt 
Daniel  Boone  found  the  settlement  in  a  state  of  great 
excitement.  Women  were  weeping  and  wringing  their 
hands;  there  were  watchmen  at  the  gate  with  loaded 
rifles ;  men  were  melting  bullets,  and  all  looked 
troubled.     He  soon  learned  the  cause  of  this  distress. 

His  young  daughter  and  two  of  her  girl  friends  had 
imprudently  crossed  the  river  in  an  old  boat.  When 
they  reached  the  opposite  bank  they  were  seized  by 
Indians  and  carried  away.  It  was  impossible  for  those 
who  saw  the  deed  to  help  the  terrified  girls,  for  they  had 
taken  the  only  boat. 

When  Boone  heard  the  sad  story  his  eyes  flashed,  but 
he  spoke  quietly  and  all  were  cheered  by  his  strong, 
sensible  words.     He   immediately  took   the  matter  into 


36  DANIEL   BOONE. 

his  own  hands.  He  told  the  broken-hearted  mothers 
that  they  need  have  no  fear  for  their  daughters'  present 
safety,  as  the  Indians  treated  women  captives  with  kind- 
ness and  respect.  He  promised  to  return  their  daughters 
to  them  safe  and  sound. 

No  one  knew  the  force  of  the  enemy,  but  eight  brave 
men  offered  to  go  with  Boone  to  rescue  the  girls.  With- 
out loss  of  time  they  began  hunting  for  some  trace  to 
show  the  route  taken  by  the  Indians.  By  daylight  they 
were  on  the  track  of  the  red  men  and  in  eager  pur- 
suit. 

The  Indians  had  scattered  and  marched  through  the 
thickest  cane  they  could  find,  so  that  the  white  men 
would  have  hard  work  to  follow  them.  But  Boone  did 
not  try  to  follow  them.  He  led  his  men  in  the  same 
direction  by  a  better  way  for  about  thirty  miles.  Then 
turning  to  cross  their  path  he  came  upon  their  tracks  in 
a  buffalo  road. 

Boone  and  his  men  quickened  their  march  and  soon 
came  upon  the  savages,  who  had  halted  and  were  prepar- 
ing a  meal.  The  Indians  were  so  surprised  that  they 
fled,  leaving  prisoners  and  rifles  behind.  The  white  men 
fired  after  the  flying  foe  and  two  fell.  But,  satisfied  to 
find  their  children,  Boone  and  his  friends  refrained  from 
punishing  the  kidnappers  further,  and  hastened  back  to 
the  fort  with  the  poor  frightened  girls. 

There  was  great  rejoicing  when  they  reached  the 
station.     The  girls  were  kissed,  scolded,  and  cried  over 


INDIAN   HOSTILITIES.  37 

by  the  women.  The  small  boys  regarded  them  as 
heroines. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  long  struggle  between 
the  Indians  and  pioneers.  The  whole  region  was  alive 
with  savages.  They  laid  siege  to  all  the  stations.  They 
did  not  usually  advance  boldly  and  attack  the  settle- 
ments in  large  companies,  but  hid  themselves,  watched 
their  chances  and  killed  their  enemies  singly  whenever 
they  could  do  so  without  risk  to  themselves. 

If  it  had  been  possible  for  the  white  men  to  stay 
within  their  fortifications  they  would  not  have  suffered 
much  from  these  sieges.  They  fought  with  an  enemy 
cruel  and  cunning,  but  unacquainted  with  the  arts  of 
civilized  warfare.  To  the  Indians,  the  storming  of  forts 
was  a  new  and  vain  undertaking.  A  log  fortress  was 
as  unconquerable  as  one  of  stone,  so  far  as  these  simple 
warriors  were  concerned. 

But  the  pioneers  depended  on  the  great  world  outside 
of  the  fortress  for  food  and  clothing.  To  keep  up  the 
supply  of  such  materials  it  was  necessary  to  make  fre- 
quent sallies  from  the  palisade.  Prudence  was  needed, 
but  action  was  just  as  necessary.  The  pioneers  were 
obliged  to  risk  the  uncertain  danger  from  Indians  to 
avoid  the  sure  misery  of  starvation. 

Those  were  days,  weeks,  months,  of  terrible  anxiety 
to  the  little  bands  of  settlers  scattered  through  the 
wilderness.  Wherever  the  white  man  went  his  path 
was  beset  with  danger.     The  sly  savages  lurked  behind 


38  DANIEL   BOONE. 

trees  or  in  bushes.  Stones  and  stumps  afforded  them 
hiding  places. 

The  hunter  in  pursuit  of  game  was  shot  down  and 
scalped.  The  parties  on  the  way  to  the  salt  licks  were 
fired  into  by  unseen  hands.  The  farmer,  hoeing  his 
corn,  was  slain.  The  boy,  stooping  at  the  spring  to  fill 
his  pail,  received  a  bullet  in  his  breast.  The  first  man 
who  chanced  to  come  out  of  the  gate  in  the  morning 
fell  face  downward  on  the  earth,  and  before  the  cloud  of 
gun  smoke  had  cleared  away  the  stealthy  redskin  had 
vanished. 

In  the  dead  of  night  firebrands  were  thrown  upon  the 
roofs  of  houses — cattle  were  killed  or  driven  away. 
Whenever  hunger  forced  the  besieging  party  to  with- 
draw to  hunt,  the  pioneers  made  the  most  of  the  time  to 
plow  fields  or  harvest  grain,  to  collect  cattle  or  replenish 
their  stock  of  buffalo  or  bear  meat. 

Several  times  the  garrisons  were  assailed  by  large 
bands  of  Indians.  When  they  were  one  or  two  hundred 
strong  they  ventured  to  approach  the  forts  and  attempt 
to  batter  down  the  gates.  Their  fury,  their  war  whoops, 
their  faces  terrible  with  paint  and  hatred,  filled  the 
breasts  of  the  besieged  with  terror.  But  they  were 
usually  driven  back  by  the  sharp-shooting  palefaces 
with  greater  loss  than  they  inflicted. 

It  was  in  such  trying  times  as  these  that  Boone 
seemed  most  the  hero.  The  harassed  people  who  had 
come  to  share  his  fate  in  the  wilderness  regarded  him  as 


BOONE    MADE    PRISONER.  39 

their  leader  and  adviser.  But  that  fearless,  generous 
man  insisted  on  serving  as  well  as  leading. 

He  was  eager  to  do  the  most  dangerous  work.  He 
went  out  on  the  road  to  meet  emigrants  and  lead  them 
by  secret  ways  to  the  stations.  He  journeyed  by  night 
from  station  to  station.  He  got  game  and  salt  for  the 
famishing  garrisons. 

Often  he  met  and  struggled  with  Indians,  but  he 
seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life.  None  of  them  could 
boast  greater  cunning  or  alertness  than  he,  none  equal 
strength  and  marksmanship.  He  became  known  and 
feared  as  the  captain  of  the  "Long  Knives." 


IX. — Boone  Made  Prisoner. 

In  the  winter  of  1778  the  salt  supply  gave  out  in 
Boonesborough.  Now,  there  are  very  few  articles  of 
food  that  please  us  without  salt;  and  indeed  salt  is 
necessary  to  the  health  of  man  and  beast.  As  the 
Indians  were  no  longer  lurking  about  the  fort,  but  had 
gone  back  to  their  villages  to  spend  the  winter,  the 
settlers  thought  they  might  safely  send  a  party  of  men 
to  the  springs  to  make  a  quantity  of  salt. 

Accordingly,  thirty  men,  with  kettles  and  sacks,  left 
Boonesborough  on  the  first  of  January  for  the  Lower 
Blue  Licks,  on  Licking  River. 

There  were  famous  salt  springs  at  this  place ;  and  it 


40 


DANIEL    BOONE. 


had  derived  its  name  from  the  fact  that  immense  num- 
bers of  deer  and  buffaloes  resorted  there  to  lick  the  salt 
which  collected  around  the  edges  of  the  springs. 

The  pioneers  wished  to  make  a  large  quantity  of  salt, 
and  the  licks  were  for  weeks  the  scene  of  great  activ- 
ity. Some  of  the 
men  drew  the 
water  from  the 
springs  ;  some 
tended  the  fires; 
others  watched 
the  boiling  liquid 
in  the  great  iron 
kettles. 

Whe  n   the 
water    had    all 
evaporated   the 
salt    crystals 
that  were  left    in    the 
kettles    were     emptied 
MAKING  SALT.  luto  large  sacks.   These 

the  men  kept  in  a  dry 
place  until  they  had  as  much  salt  as  the  packhorses 
could  carry;  then  they  sent  it  to  the  garrison  in  charge 
of  two  or  three  men,  while  the  others  stayed  at  the  spring 
and  made  more  salt. 

A    hunter    and    scout    was    needed    to    supply    the 
workmen  with  food  and  give  warning  if  the  Indians 


BOONE    MADE    PRISONER.  4I 

should  approach.  These  duties  were  left  to  Daniel 
Boone. 

One  day,  when  at  some  distance  from  the  camp,  he 
found  himself  surrounded  by  a  large  body  of  Indians. 
Seeing  that  he  could  not  escape,  he  cheerfully  yielded 
himself  prisoner. 

He  was  not  slow  to  learn  the  reason  why  this  strong 
band  of  savages  had  left  their  homes  to  make  a  long 
march  in  the  middle  of  winter.  They  were  on  the 
warpath.  Their  scouts  had  told  them  that  most  of  the 
men  were  away  from  Boonesborough  and  they  were 
hastening  to  destroy  that  fort  while  it  was  defense- 
less. 

Boone  knew  enough  about  Indian  warfare  to  realize 
what  a  horrible  fate  awaited  the  settlement,  so  dear  to 
him,  if  these  pitiless  men  could  not  be  turned  from  their 
purpose.  He  pictured  the  helpless  women  and  children 
attacked  by  howling  savages.  In  fancy  he  saw  them 
rushing  from  their  flaming  homes  only  to  fall  a  prey  to 
the  cruel  tomahawk.  Then  he  imagined  the  midnight 
massacre  of  the  salt  makers  that  would  probably  follow 
this  bloody  deed. 

If  he  could  only  get  word  to  the  men  at  the  licks 
they  might  rush  to  the  defense  of  the  garrison  and  save 
it  and  themselves!  But  that  was  a  vain  wish  and  Boone 
bent  his  whole  power  to  accomplish  possible  good.  It 
seemed  to  him  better  that  strong  men  should  suffer 
imprisonment   than  that  the  devoted  women  who  had 


42  DANIEL    BOONE. 

shared  the  hardship  of  frontier  life  should  be  slain  or 
that  all  should  perish. 

He  therefore  reasoned  with  the  chief  and  persuaded 
him  that  it  would  be  much  wiser  for  him  to  take  the 
salt-makers  prisoners  than  to  destroy  the  garrison,  as  he 
would  receive  large  rewards  for  them  from  the  British 
at  Detroit. 

The  Indians  saw  the  truth  of  what  he  said,  and  when 
he  assured  them  that  he  had  such  power  over  his  men 
that  they  would  yield  without  resistance  if  he  com- 
manded them  to  do  so,  they  were  pleased  with  the 
prospect  of  such  an  easy  and  safe  victory.  They  prom- 
ised him  that  if  he  would  put  the  "Long  Knives"  in 
their  power  they  would  treat  them  well. 

Convinced  that  he  had  done  the  best  in  his  power  for 
all  concerned,  Boone  gravely,  but  without  faltering, 
led  the  braves  to  the  camp  of  the  astonished  salt-makers. 
They  were  amazed  to  hear  the  word  ' '  surrender ' '  from 
Daniel  Boone;  but  they  obeyed,  believing  that  he  had 
good  reason  for  his  action.  You  may  be  sure  that  those 
brave  men  agreed  that  he  had  done  wisely  when  they 
learned  of  the  danger  that  had  thus  been  turned  from 
the  women  and  children  of  their  garrison. 


X. — Captivity  and  Escape. 

Well  satisfied  with  having  taken  so  many  prisoners, 
the  Indians  returned   to  Old  Chillicothe,  north  of  the 


CAPTIVITY    AND    ESCAPE. 


43 


Ohio  River,  to  show  their  prisoners  and  celebrate  their 
victory.  They  were  faithful  to  their  pledge  and  their 
captives  fared  as  well  as  their  own  warriors;  but  un- 
willing hearts  make  slow  traveling,  and  the  Boones- 
borough  men  found  the  one  hundred  and  sixty  miles' 
march  in  bitter  winter  weather  a  long  and  hard  one. 

They  reached  the  Indian  village  in  February.  Run- 
ners were  sent  in  advance  to  announce  the  return  of  a 
successful  band  of  warriors,  and  the  people  of  the  village 
assembled  to  give  the  victors  a  noisy  welcome  and 
satisfy  their  curiosity  regarding  the  prisoners. 

In  March  Boone  and  ten  of  his  men  were  sent  to 
Detroit  in  charge  of  forty  braves.  General  Hamilton, 
the  British  commander  at  that  place,  had  made  a  treaty 
of  friendship  with  the  Indians  and  had  offered  a  reward 
for  white  prisoners.  It  was  for  the  purpose  of  getting 
this  reward  that  the  prisoners  were  taken  on  this  long 
march. 

Boone,  in  a  certain  way,  enjoyed  it.  Alert  and  observ- 
ing as  usual,  he  saw  much  to  interest  him  in  the  country 
through  which  they  were  passing.  It  was  just  such  a 
trip  as  he  would  have  enjoyed  taking  had  he  been  free. 
The  Indians  felt  him  to  be  a  powerful  man.  They  ad- 
mired him  and  stood  in  awe  of  him.  The  more  they 
saw  of  him  the  better  they  liked  him. 

When  they  reached  Detroit  they  sold  the  other  pris- 
oners to  the  British,  but  refused  to  give  up  Boone.  A 
large  sum  of  money  was  offered  in  exchange  for  this  im- 


44  DANIEL    BOONE. 

portant  prisoner.  The  Indians  refused  it,  saying  they 
Hked  him  so  well  they  wished  to  make  him  one  of  their 
tribe. 

The  British  had  promised  to  treat  him  well  and  he 
had  a  strong  dislike  for  Indians,  yet  Boone  showed 
no  disappointment  when  he  heard  this,  but  appeared 
very  ready  to  remain  their  prisoner.  He  was  not  easily 
overcome  by  misfortune.  He  went  back  with  the 
Indians  and  took  up  his  life  among  them  with  a  cheerful 
face  and  hopeful  heart. 

He  longed  to  hear  from  Boonesborough  and  to  send 
word  of  his  safety  to  his  family.  He  felt  sure  that  he 
would  succeed  in  making  his  escape  before  long,  and  in 
the  meantime  he  did  not  find  it  hard  to  Kve  as  the 
Indians  did. 

He  was  bathed,  to  wash  away  his  white  blood,  and 
received  into  the  tribe  with  due  ceremony  as  the  adopted 
son  of  a  chief.  He  worked  for  his  captors,  making  salt 
for  them  and  tending  their  crops.  He  served  so  faith- 
fully and  always  acted  in  such  a  friendly,  manly  way 
that  he  soon  won  the  confidence  of  the  entire  tribe.  He 
was  allowed  to  go  hunting  and  always  brought  back 
presents  of  fine  game  to  the  great  chief  or  king. 

When  asked  to  measure  his  power  in  shooting  at  a 
mark  or  in  running  races  with  the  savages,  he  showed 
his  good  sense  and  freedom  from  vanity.  He  saw  that 
they  were  jealous  of  him  if  he  surpassed  them  in  skill, 
so  he  let  them  win  in  the  contests,  but  came  so  near  to 


CAPTIVITY    AND    ESCAPE.  45 

victory  that  he  held  their  respect  and  admiration. 
They  soon  came  to  trust  him  so  much  that  they  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  watch  him  closely.  This  was 
what  he  wanted. 

In  June,  on  returning  from  a  salt-making  expedition, 
he  found  the  village  full  of  strange  Indians.     As  it  was 


SHOOTING   AT   A   MARK   WITH   THE   INDIANS 

supposed  that  he  could  not  understand  the  speech  of  the 
new-comers  they  talked  freely  in  his  presence,  and  he 
soon  picked  up  enough  words  to  learn  that  the  braves 
were  assembhng  to  attack  Boonesborough.  When  he 
heard  that,  he  decided  that  the  moment  had  come  for 
him  to  attempt  flight. 


46  DANIEL    BOONE. 

He  would  be  killed  if  caught,  but  at  all  risks  he  must 
make  an  effort  to  escape  and  warn  his  people  of  their 
danger.  His  captivity  had  been  the  means  of  saving 
the  garrison  once,  he  would  save  it  again  by  escape. 

Hiding  a  piece  of  dried  venison  in  his  hunting  shirt, 
he  started  at  daybreak  "to  hunt."  As  soon  as  he  was 
well  out  of  sight  he  took  pains  to  hide  all  marks  that 
would  show  the  Indians  the  way  he  had  taken,  then 
started  with  great  speed  for  Boonesborough.  His 
haste  was  so  great  that  he  did  not  stop  to  eat.  He  was 
in  continual  dread  of  being  overtaken,  and  traveled  night 
and  day  till  he  reached  the  Ohio. 

He  was  not  a  good  swimmer  and  he  was  perplexed  as 
to  how  he  should  cross  the  river.  Luckily  he  found  an 
old  canoe  on  the  bank.  It  leaked  badly,  but  a  few 
minutes'  work  made  it  sufficiently  water-proof  to  carry 
him  to  the  opposite  bank.  Once  across  the  river,  he 
rested  a  little,  shot  a  wild  turkey  for  food,  and  thus  re- 
freshed, renewed  his  journey  to  the  settlement. 


XL — Preparations  for  the  Siege. 

When  Boone  came  in  sight  of  the  familiar  old  fort  he 
quickened  his  steps  and  his  eye  brightened.  He  forgot 
that  he  was  tired  and  foot-sore.  He  forgot  for  a  moment 
the  terrible  fate  that  threatened  the  station.  The  faces 
of  his  wife,  his  children  and  neighbors  filled  his  thoughts 


PREPARATIONS    FOR    THE    SIEGE.  47 

and  the  prospect  of  seeing  them  all  again  made  him 
happy. 

His  coming  caused  great  rejoicing.  Men  and  women 
thronged  about  to  shake  hands  once  more  with  their  old 
captain.  But  Mrs.  Boone  was  not  among  them;  for, 
losing  hope  of  her  husband's  return,  she  had  gone  back 
to  her  father's  house  in  North  Carolina  with  all  her 
children  except  one  daughter.  Boone's  disappointment 
on  hearing  this  was  softened  by  the  thought  that  his 
loved  ones  were  out  of  harm's  way,  and  he  soon  forgot 
his  personal  affairs  in  thoughts  of  war. 

He  interrupted  the  numerous  questions  concerning 
his  welfare  to  ask  about  the  strength  of  the  fortification. 
He  inquired  whether  certain  repairs  needed  at  the  time 
of  his  departure  had  been  made.  The  men  explained 
that  they  had  been  so  busy  farming  and  hunting  that 
the  fortifications  had  been  neglected.  Captain  Boone 
found  upon  examination  that  this  was  too  true.  No 
repairs  had  been  made,  and  the  old  wall  was  badly 
weakened  in  places  by  decay. 

For  sixty  men  to  attempt  to  withstand  over  four 
hundred  Indians  in  this  feeble  fort  seemed  hopeless,  but 
Boone  did  not  despair.  He  knew  his  men  and  every 
one  of  them  was  a  worker  and  a  hero.  Under  his  direc- 
tion they  began  at  once  to  strengthen  the  palisade.  For 
days  there  was  a  ringing  of  axes  and  a  crashing  of  fall- 
ing oaks  in  the  forests  around  Boonesborough  that  the 
Indian  scouts  heard  with  alarm. 


48         •  DANIEL    BOONE. 

Inside  of  ten  days  the  work  was  finished,  and  the  fort 
was  as  strong  as  it  could  well  be  made  with  such  mate- 
rial. The  garrison  was  ready  for  an  attack,  but  an 
escaped  prisoner  brought  word  that  the  warriors  had 
been  disturbed  by  Boone's  flight  and  the  reports  of  new 
fortifications  at  Boonesborough,  and  would  put  oft'  their 
expedition  for  three  weeks. 

That  time  ought  not  to  be  lost;  the  Indians'  fear  of 
them  should  be  increased.  So  thought  Boone ;  and  he 
determined  to  take  a  daring  step.  He  called  for  volun- 
teers and,  with  a  company  of  nineteen  men,  made  a  bold 
dash  into  the  enemy's  country.  He  thought  that  if  the 
Kentuckians  threatened  the  Indian  villages  the  warriors 
might  return  to  their  homes  to  defend  them.  With 
this  idea  in  view,  he  and  his  company  advanced  toward 
Paint- Creek-Town,  a  village  in  the  region  where  he  had 
recently  been  a  prisoner. 

When  almost  there  they  met  a  squad  of  Indians  on 
their  way  to  join  those  who  were  coming  to  attack 
Boonesborough.  A  brisk  skirmish  resulted,  carried  on 
according  to  the  Indian  fashion  from  behind  trees  and 
logs.  After  some  minutes  of  sharp  shooting,  one  of  the 
Indians  was  killed  and  two  were  wounded. 

Their  comrades  then  fled,  leaving  horses  and  bag- 
gage behind.  Encircled  by  this  booty,  Boone  faced  his 
men  homeward,  for  he  had  learned  that  Paint-Creek- 
Town  had  been  deserted  and  that  the  warriors  were  on 
the  march. 


THE    SIEGE    OF    BOONESBOROUGH.  49 

You  may  be  sure  that  the  Indians,  routed  by  Boone's 
company,  in  reporting  the  affray  to  their  friends,  pictured 
the  force  that  had  overpowered  them  as  much  stronger 
and  more  terrible  than  it  really  was  in  order  to  excuse 
their  own  defeat. 

Perhaps  it  was  with  a  hope  of  reaching  Boones- 
borough  while  so  many  of  its  defenders  were  away  that 
the  Indians  set  forth  on  their  long-planned  journey. 
However,  by  forced  marches  Boone  outstripped  the  main 
body  of  the  enemy,  and  regained  the  fort  without  the 
loss  of  a  single  man. 

This  bold  deed  had  far-reaching  results,  for  it  encour- 
aged the  garrison  greatly,  and  made  the  Indians  look 
upon  Boone  and  his  men  with  almost  superstitious 
dread. 


XII. — The  Siege  of  Boonesborough. 

If  the  men  of  Boonesborough  could  have  trembled 
with  fear  they  must  have  done  so  when  they  saw  the 
host  by  which  their  little  fort  was  soon  surrounded. 
There  was  a  great  horde  of  Indian  warriors  and  sachems, 
hideous  in  paint  and  feathers,  commanded  by  Chief 
Blackfish,  the  same  who  had  been  Boone's  master  when 
in  captivity.  A  Httle  band  of  Canadians  marched  with 
them  under  British  and  French  flags. 

Although  there  were  not  over  a  dozen  palefaces  they 
added  much  to  the   strength  of  their  allies,   because  of 


50  DANIEL   BOONE. 

their  knowledge  of  storming  fortifications.  When  Daniel 
Boone  saw  them  he  knew  that  this  siege  would  differ 
from  other  Indian  sieges,  not  only  in  force  but  in 
method. 

And  true  enough,  up  came  several  men  headed  by  the 
leader  of  the  Canadians,  Du  Quesne,  with  a  flag  of  truce, 
and  asked  to  see  Captain  Daniel  Boone.  As  Captain 
Boone  was  not  far  away  he  appeared  promptly.  Du 
Quesne  then  demanded  the  ' '  surrender  of  the  garrison 
in  the  name  of  His  Britannic  Majesty."  That  sounded 
very  dreadful.  They  had  to  fight  this  time— not  simply 
ignorant  savages,  but  four  hundred  and  fifty  well-armed 
warriors,  directed  by  white  men  experienced  in  arts  of 
war,  and  acting  under  the  authority  of  "  His  Majesty, 
the  King. ' '  Captain  Boone  seemed  deeply  impressed  and 
after  a  brief  talk  with  the  men  around  him  asked  for 
two  days  to  consider  the  question.  Du  Quesne  granted 
the  request;  for  a  man  who  is  sure  of  victory  can  afford 
to  be  generous. 

As  "all  is  fair  in  war,"  you  will  not  be  surprised  to 
learn  that  Boone  did  not  need  two  days,  or  two  hours, 
or  two  minutes,  to  decide  what  the  garrison  would  do. 
The  idea  of  their  yielding  was  as  far  from  his  thoughts, 
as  the  idea  of  their  offering  any  serious  resistance  was 
from  Du  Quesne' s.  He  knew  that  they  had  a  large 
force  to  encounter  and  that  if  the  fort  was  taken  by 
storm  they  need  expect  no  quarter  from  the  Indians. 
But  those  men  who  had  come  into  the  wilderness  for 


THE    SIEGE   OF    BOONESBOROUGH.  51 

larger  freedom,  preferred  death  to  captivity.  It  was  no 
new  thing  for  them  to  risk  their  lives  against  great  odds, 
depending  on  their  own  strength  and  valor  for  the 
victory. 

Boone  gave  directions  for  the  cattle  to  be  brought  in 
and  a  store  of  provisions  and  water  to  be  collected. 
The  fort  was  the  scene  of  busy  preparations  for  a  long 
siege  during  the  next  two  days.  Even  the  women  and 
children  did  their  part,  carrying  water  all  day  long  from 
the  spring.  But  care  was  taken  that  not  many  should 
be  away  from  the  fort  at  one  time,  and  a  constant  watch 
was  kept  to  guard  against  Indian  treachery.  No  at- 
tempt was  made  to  interfere  with  their  work,  however. 
The  enemy  watched  all  of  these  preparations  with  grim 
satisfaction.  They  had  a  cunning  plan  in  mind  and 
expected  to  eat  the  food  that  Boone's  men  were  collect- 
ing with  such  labor. 

When  the  two  days  had  passed,  Du  Quesne  returned 
for  an  answer.  Boone  announced  that  the  men  of 
Boonesborough  would  resist  to  the  last  man.  He  then 
thanked  the  enemy  for  the  time  they  had  given  him. 
He  thought  they  would  be  angry  and  ready  to  fight. 
Instead,  Du  Quesne  replied  that  before  going  to  war 
they  would  better  hear  the  liberal  terms  of  surrender 
that  General  Hamilton  offered  them,  and  invited  a  com- 
mittee of  nine  men  to  talk  the  matter  over  with  them 
before  the  fort. 

Eight  men  volunteered  to  go  with  Boone  to  a  point 


52  DANIEL   BOONE. 

within  gunshot  of  the  fort  to  treat  with  the  Indians. 
No  arms  were  carried  by  either  party.  Though  there 
were  only  nine  in  Boone's  party  many  Indians  attended 
the  council.  After  some  talk  a  paper  was  read,  saying 
that  the  people  of  Boonesborough  would  be  left  in 
peace  if  they  would  acknowledge  the  sovereignty  of 
England. 

The  Kentuckians  saw  there  was  treachery  in  this  fair 
promise,  but  thought  it  wisest  to  conceal  their  doubt. 
So  they  signed  the  paper  and  consented  to  shake  hands 
with  the  Indians.  At  this,  eighteen  strong  Indians 
stepped  forward  and  two  grasped  each  of  the  nine  men 
of  Boonesborough  by  the  hand  and  arm  and  tried  to 
drag  them  away. 

The  men  were  on  the  lookout  for  an  attack,  and 
each  putting  forth  his  utmost  strength  managed  to 
escape  from  his  two  captors.  The  guard  at  the  fort 
saw  the  struggle  and  opened  fire.  The  Indians  be- 
gan firing  at  the  same  time.  But,  wonderful  as  it 
may  seem,  the  entire  party  reached  the  fort  with  only 
one  wounded. 

Trickery  had  failed  ;  the  prey  had  escaped  from  their 
very  grasp.  Maddened  with  failure,  the  Indians  rushed 
against  the  fort  with  blind  fury,  yelling,  battering  the 
gates,  and  firing  wildly  at  the  log  fort. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  hard  struggle  that  lasted 
for  nine  days.  Both  parties  suffered.  The  Indians 
found    no  shelter   within    rifle-shot   of  the   fort,    and, 


THE    SIEGE   OF    BOONESBOROUGH.  53 

driven  to  open  fighting,   fell    before   the   sparing   but 
deadly  fire  from  the  fort. 

The  little  party  within  the  fort  suffered  also. 
There  were  so  few  of  them  to  watch  and  fight  so 
many. 

The  women  proved  a  great  help.  They  not  only  pre- 
pared food  for  the  men  and  made  bullets,  but  with 
courage  that  equaled  the  men's  they  stood  beside  them 
when  the  fight  was  thickest  and  loaded  their  muskets. 
Daniel  Boone's  daughter  was  wounded  while  loading  her 
father's  rifle.  She  was  struck  by  an  Indian  bullet,  but 
it  was  too  far  spent  to  do  serious  harm. 

Protected  by  their  ramparts  the  men  wasted  no  am- 
munition in  aimless  firing,  but  took  good  aim  and  shot 
to  kill.  A  negro  at  the  fort  deserted  and  joined  the 
Indians.  He  had  a  good  rifle,  and  stationing  himself  in 
a  tree  within  reach  of  the  fort  fired  into  it.  Daniel 
Boone  soon  discovered  the  place  from  which  these  well- 
aimed  shots  were  fired,  and  waiting  till  the  traitor  raised 
the  upper  part  of  his  head  above  a  branch  to  take  aim — 
fired.  The  negro  fell  with  his  head  pierced  by  the  old 
hunter's  bullet. 

Despairing  of  making  any  headway  with  arms,  the 
Indians  tried  to  burn  the  fort.  A  fire  was  started  on 
the  roof  of  one  of  the  cabins,  but  it  was  discovered 
before  it  had  done  much  damage.  A  brave  young  man 
climbed  to  the  roof  and  in  the  face  of  a  brisk  fire  from 
the  enemy  put  out  the  flames. 


54  DANIEL   BOONE. 

By  the  advice  of  the  Canadians  the  assailants  next 
sought  to  dig  an  underground  passage  or  mine  to  the 
fort.  They  began  to  dig  in  the  river  bank  above  the 
water  line,  out  of  sight  from  the  fort,  and  out  of  reach 
of  its  guns.  But  the  men  at  the  fort  soon  guessed  what 
they  were  about,  by  the  muddy  water  in  the  river 
below  the  fort.  Boone  ordered  a  trench  cut  across  this 
passage.  The  earth  removed  was  thrown  over  the  wall 
of  the  fort.  When  the  enemy  saw  it  they  knew  that 
their  plan  was  discovered  and  would  be  defeated. 

They  gave  up  the  hope  of  success,  and  returned  to 
their  homes  sullen  with  shame,  grief,  and  disappoint- 
ment. Thirty-seven  of  the.r  proud  warriors  were  slain 
and  many  were  wounded,  but  that  was  not  all.  They 
had  lost  hope  of  regaining  their  hunting  grounds  from 
the  "  lyong  Knives."  The  British  were  not  less  disap- 
pointed ;  they  had  to  bear  the  expense  of  the  war  ; 
they  had  lost  the  confidence  of  the  Indians,  and  the 
western  bulwark  of  American  freedom  was  as  strong  as 
ever. 

The  people  of  Boonesborough  had  reason  to  rejoice. 
All  but  six,  two  killed  and  four  wounded,  had  escaped 
the  fire  of  the  enemy,  which  had  been  so  heavy  that 
after  the  siege  they  picked  up  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  pounds  of  bullets  around  the  walls.  By  their  suc- 
cess they  encouraged  immigration  and  discouraged  the 
Indians.  In  short,  they  had  saved  Kentucky.  And 
Daniel  Boone  was  the  hero  of  the  day. 


DARK   DAYS.  55 


XIII. — Dark  Days. 


Everybody  was  now  talking  about  Boone's  courage 
and  skill,  and  he  was  rewarded  by  being  given  the  rank 
of  major.  But  pioneer  life  was  full  of  struggles  and  the 
glory  of  victory  was  soon  lost  sight  of  in  the  little 
battles  and  victories  of  daily  life.  Boone  went  to  Caro- 
lina for  his  wife  and  children.  He  was  given  a  cordial 
welcome  and  stayed  there  a  short  time.  His  safe  return 
with  reports  of  success  influenced  many  families  to  emi- 
grate to  the  west. 

Boone  succeeded  in  reaching  Boonesborough  again, 
but  said  afterwards  that  his  troubles  on  that  journey 
would  fill  a  book.  It  was  at  that  time  that  he  was 
robbed  of  his  own  fortune,  and  worse,  of  money  entrusted 
to  him  by  others,  for  the  purpose  of  buying  land.  Some 
people  accused  him  of  dishonesty,  but  not  those  who 
knew  him.  This  is  what  one  of  the  men  whose  money 
he  lost  wrote: 

"I  have  known  Boone  in  times  of  old,  when  poverty 
and  distress  held  him  fast  by  the  hand;  and  in  these 
wretched  circumstances  I  have  ever  found  him  of  a 
noble  and  generous  soul,  despising  everything  mean; 
and  therefore  I  will  freely  grant  him  a  discharge  for 
whatever  sums  of  mine  he  might  have  possessed  at  that 

time.'' 

During  Boone's  absence  serious  danger  had  threatened 
the  settlement.     The  British  had  organized  an  army  of 


56  DANIEL   BOONE. 

savages  and  invaded  Kentucky  with  cannon.  The 
frontiersmen  knew  that  the  sheltering  walls  that  had 
saved  them  so  often  from  Indian  violence  could  not 
stand  before  the  fire  of  cannon.  Two  stations  were 
taken,  but  the  difficulty  of  moving  artillery  over  the 
rough  ground  caused  the  party  to  give  up  the  undertak- 
ing before  Boonesborough  was  reached. 

In  the  autumn  of  1780  Boone  and  his  brother  went  on 
an  expedition  to  Blue  Licks.  On  their  way  home  they 
fell  into  an  Indian  ambuscade.  His  brother  was  killed 
and  it  was  only  by  great  exertion  that  Daniel  Boone 
escaped. 

He  was  fleet  of  foot  and  cunning  as  an  Indian,  but  he 
could  not  throw  the  pursuers  off  his  trail.  He  discov- 
ered that  they  were  led  in  the  chase  by  a  dog.  He 
knew  that  he  could  not  deceive  the  creature's  instinct, 
and  so  he  waited  until  it  came  near  him  and  shot  it. 
Without  its  guidance  the  Indians  were  soon  outwitted 
by  the  hunter. 

He  made  the  rest  of  his  journey  home  without  ad- 
venture, but  with  a  heavy  heart.  The  brother  who 
had  been  his  devoted  companion  through  years  of  dan- 
ger and  hardship  had  been  cruelly  killed,  and  he  missed 
him  sadly. 

The  winter  that  followed  was  a  bitter  one.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  snow  from  November  till  Feb- 
ruary, and  the  cold  was  so  intense  that  cattle  and  even 
wild  beasts  froze  to  death.     To  add  to  the  suffering  of 


DARK    DAYS.  57 

the  settlers  there  was  a  corn-famine,  for  much  of  the 
corn  had  been  destroyed  by  the  Indians.  Buffalo  meat 
was  their  chief  food. 

In  spite  of  so  many  hardships  the  settlements 
grew  and  increased.  The  Indians  became  desper- 
ate and  rallied  to  make  a  last  attempt  to  crush  the 
intruders. 

In  the  summer  of  1782  they  invaded  Kentucky  under 
the  leadership  of  two  white  men,  who  lived  with  the 
Indians  and  helped  them  in  their  attacks  upon  settle- 
ments. They  assailed  Bryant's  Station  first.  But  the 
little  garrison  offered  a  stout  resistance  and  they  were 
obliged  to  withdraw.  The  militia  were  summoned  to 
pursue  them.  Then  came  a  day  terrible  for  the  pioneers 
of  Kentucky — a  day  not  to  be  named  among  them  with- 
out a  thrill  of  horror — a  day  that  filled  the  stout  heart  of 
Daniel  Boone  with  bitterness  and  grief 

Colonel  Boone  (he  had  been  made  I^ieutenant-Colonel) 
and  his  men,  most  of  them  veterans  in  Indian  warfare, 
were  among  the  first  to  answer  the  call  for  aid.  With 
the  tried  soldiers  of  his  troop  was  a  youth  about  to 
engage  in  his  first  battle.  This  was  Israel  Boone,  the 
son  of  Daniel. 

The  company  that  met  at  Bryant's  Station  was  a  good 
one  for  any  but  an  enemy  to  look  at.  Those  men 
had  such  rugged  frames,  such  keen,  intelligent  faces, 
and  such  an  air  of  self-confidence.  Their  leaders  were 
men    distinguished     for    deeds    of     valor — backwoods 


58  DANIEL    BOONE. 

heroes,  whose  names  were  household  words  and  whose 
adventures  were  fireside  stories  in  every  settlement. 
But  there  was  none  among  them  so  well  fitted  to  be 
guide  and  commander  as  Daniel  Boone.  None  knew 
the  ground  so  well.  None  knew  the  foe  so  well.  None 
had  such  a  glorious  record  as  he.  But  the  command 
was  given  to  an  older  ofiicer. 

There  was  some  disagreement  as  to  whether  they 
should  advance  at  once  or  wait  for  Colonel  Logan  with 
his  men.  Most  were  in  favor  of  immediate  pursuit. 
Boone  advised  delay.  He  called  attention  to  the  fact 
that  the  Indians  had  made  no  eft'ort  to  conceal  their 
route,  had  even  marked  the  trees  with  their  tomahawks 
as  if  to  invite  pursuit.  He  noticed,  too,  that  the  camp- 
fires  were  few,  and  inferred  that  the  Indians  were  trying 
to  hide  their  strength.  His  warning  was  not  listened  to 
and  he  was  accused  of  cowardice. 

The  troops  advanced  without  seeing  anything  of  the 
enemy  until  they  reached  the  Licking  River  at  Lower 
Blue  Licks.  Here  the  vanguard  saw  a  few^  Indians  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river.  Before  crossing  the  stream 
a  council  of  officers  was  held.  Boone  again  advised 
caution.  He  predicted  that  they  would  find  about  four 
or  five  hundred  Indians  in  ambush  in  the  ravines 
along  the  ridge  on  the  other  side.  If  they  insisted  on 
continuing  he  proposed  a  plan  by  which  they  might 
hope  for  victory. 

The     discussion   was     interrupted.       A     rash     young 


DARK    DAYS.  59 

officer  raised  a  warwhoop  and  with  the  shout,  "Those 
who  are  not  cowards  follow  me ;  I  will  show  them  where 
the  Indians  are,"  plunged  into  the  river.  He  was 
eagerly  followed  by  many. 

Boone  paused  a  moment,  and  his  men  stood  firm 
waiting  for  his  command.  He  beheved  those  men  were 
rushing  to  their  death.  But  he  could  not  stand  back 
and  let  them  perish  without  another  effort  to  save 
them.  He  ordered  his  men  forward.  At  Boone's 
entreaty  there  was  another  halt  across  the  river,  and 
scouts  were  sent  out  to  examine  the  ravines.  They  re- 
ported no  Indians.  And  the  Kentuckians  again  went 
forward. 

As  they  neared  the  ridge  the  long  grass  in  the 
ravines  suddenly  became  alive  with  armed  savages. 
A  deadly  fire  was  poured  upon  the  troops  from  both 
sides.  Many  fell,  dead  or  wounded.  The  others 
returned  fire,  but  in  vain.  To  face  those  terrible 
volleys  meant  death.  A  retreat  was  ordered.  It 
became  a  ffight.  The  Indians  were  upon  the  terror- 
stricken  men,  brandishing  their  tomahawks  and  mad  for 
blood. 

Boone  held  his  men  together  as  long  as  there  was 
hope  of  united  action.  Then  all  became  disorder.  It 
was  a  bitter  thing  for  him  to  see  those  young  men,  the 
flower  of  the  settlement,  dead  upon  the  bare  earth,  but 
when  his  son  Israel  was  shot  the  father  forgot  others. 
He  took  his  dying  boy  in  his  arms  and  with  the  strength 


60  DANIEL   BOONE. 

of  love  and  despair  strode  through  the  flying  bullets 
unhurt. 

Many  a  brave  deed  was  done  that  day.  One  man  who 
had  been  called  coward  proved  himself  valiant.  He 
was  making  his  escape  on  a  fine  horse  when  the  fate  of 
the  men  trying  to  cross  the  river  appealed  to  him.  He 
called  to  his  comrades  with  the  air  of  a  commander: 
"Halt!  Fire  upon  the  Indians  and  protect  our  men." 
They  obeyed  and  the  pursuit  was  checked.  Another 
brave  fellow  saw  an  old,  lame  officer  unmounted.  He 
gave  him  his  own  horse  and  took  his  chance  of  escape 
on  foot.  The  fugitives  were  pursued  for  twenty  miles, 
but  most  of  those  who  got  across  the  river  in  safety 
escaped. 

About  sixty  of  the  Kentuckians  fell  that  day  and  as 
many  Indians.  The  grief  throughout  the  settlements 
was  bitter  and  their  revenge  was  terrible. 

A  thousand  frontiersmen  commanded  by  George  Rog- 
ers Clark,  the  famous  hero  of  the  Northwest,  were  soon 
marching  into  the  Indian  country.  With  them  went 
Daniel  Boone,  in  whose  advice  everybody  placed  the 
greatest  confidence. 

The  Kentuckians  crossed  the  Ohio  River,  and  marched 
rapidly  upon  the  Indian  towns  on  the  Miami  River. 
The  red  men  were  taken  by  surprise  while  celebrating 
the  victory  which  they  had  gained  at  Blue  I^icks. 
Clark's  army  was  within  two  miles  of  their  principal 
town  when  they  first  learned  of  its  approach.     They 


OLD    AGE.  6 1 

fled  in  the  greatest  haste,  and  made  no  attempt  to  defend 
their  homes. 

The  frontiersmen  burned  all  the  Indian  towns  on  the 
Miami,  destroyed  the  crops,  and  killed  every  Indian  that 
came  in  their  way.  The  red  men  had  never  been  so 
severely  punished,  and  they  were  greatly  disheartened. 
"They  learned,"  said  Boone,  "that  it  was  useless  for 
them  to  keep  on  fighting  with  the  whites." 

After  this,  the  Indians  made  but  little  serious  trouble 
in  Kentucky.  The  settlers  now  felt  themselves  secure, 
and  they  could  give  more  attention  to  their  clearings 
and  farms. 

But  a  few  red  men  still  lurked  in  the  woods,  or  came 
across  the  Ohio  River,  intent  upon  mischief.  And 
it  was  not  until  some  years  later  that  life  was  entirely 
safe  throughout  the  Kentucky  settlements. 


XIV.— Old  Age. 


Peace  was  declared  between  England  and  America 
and  the  Indians  were  no  longer  incited  by  the  British 
to  attack  the  settlers.  The  harsh  punishment  they  had 
received  for  their  last  expedition  had  its  effect  too,  and 
the  Red  Men  gave  up  trying  to  conquer  the  "Long 
Knives. "     Kentucky  was  dotted  with  cabins  and  block- 


62  DANIEL    BOONE. 

houses.  The  day  of  Indian  wars  had  passed.  But  the 
savages  still  troubled  lonely  farmers.  They  were  ever 
on  the  watch  to  attack  the  defenseless  or  kidnap 
children. 

Daniel  Boone  built  a  neat  log-house  on  a  fine  large 
farm,  where  he  lived  surrounded  by  his  family  and 
friends.  He  was  a  marked  man  and  the  Indians  would 
have  been  glad  at  any  time  to  capture  him. 

One  day  he  was  in  his  barn  loft,  examining  his 
tobacco,  which  had  been  thrown  across  the  rafters  to 
dry.  Hearing  a  noise,  he  looked  down  and  saw  four 
well-armed  Indians  standing  below  him. 

"Now,  Boone,"  cried  the  leader,  "we've  got  you. 
You  no  get  away  any  more.  We  take  you  off  to  Chilli- 
cothe  this  time.      You  no  cheat  us  any  more." 

Boone  saw  their  loaded  guns  pointed  at  him,  and  knew 
that  resistance  would  be  useless.  But  he  recognized  the 
men  as  old  acquaintances  belonging  to  the  same  party 
that  had  captured  him  years  before  when  making  salt  at 
Blue  Licks.  So  he  said  pleasantly,  "Ah,  my  friends, 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you!  Just  wait  till  I  have  turned 
the  rest  of  this  tobacco,  and  then  I'll  come  down  and 
shake  hands  with  you. '' 

The  red  men  wanted  him  to  come  down  at  once;  but 
when  he  told  them  he  would  go  quietly  with  them,  they 
consented  to  let  him  finish  his  work. 

Boone,  while  busy  tossing  his  tobacco  about,  chatted 
pleasantly  with  the  four  savages,  and  recalled  the  old 


OLD    AGE.  63 

times  when  he  had  competed  with  them  in  hunting  and 
in  shooting-  at  a  mark.  They  became  so  deeply  inter- 
ested in  what  he  was  saying  that  they  forgot  themselves 
and  put  their  guns  down  upon  the  ground. 

Suddenly  Boone  threw  a  quantity  of  the  dry  tobacco, 
full  of  dust,  down  into  their  upturned  faces.  At  the 
same  moment  he  jumped  upon  them  with  as  much  of 
the  tobacco  as  he  could  carry  in  his  arms,  filling  their 
eyes  and  mouths  with  the  choking,  blinding  dust 
Then,  before  they  could  recover  themselves,  he  ran  as 
fast  as  he  could  towards  his  cabin. 

He  had  gone  but  a  little  distance  when  he  looked 
around  to  see  what  the  Indians  were  doing.  To  his 
great  amusement  he  saw  them  groping  around  as 
though  blinded,  reaching  out  their  hands  to  find  their 
rifles,  and  feeling  their  way  out  of  the  dense  cloud  of 
tobacco  dust.  He  could  not  avoid  a  taunting  laugh, 
while  the  Indians  cursed  themselves  as  fools  and  called 
after  him  in  no  pleasant  manner.  But  he  was  soon  safe 
in  his  cabin,  and  the  four  savages  were  obliged  to  return 
sadly  to  their  people  without  the  prisoner  whom  they 
had  hoped  to  bring. 

Although  shrewd  in  his  dealings  with  Indians,  Daniel 
Boone  was  simple  and  straightforward  in  his  dealings 
with  men  of  his  own  race  and  he  expected  the  same 
treatment  from  them.  He  was  therefore  surprised  and 
indignant  to  find  that  because  he  had  neglected  some 
legal  formality  the  land  that  he  had  discovered,  explored, 


64  DANIEL   BOONE. 

wrested  from  the  Indians,  cleared  and  cultivated,  be- 
longed, not  to  him,  but  to  the  man  who  had  signed  the 
proper  papers. 

He  loved  Kentucky.  The  soil,  the  trees,  the  rocks, 
the  rivers,  were  dear  to  him.  Here  he  had  spent 
the  most  eventful  years  of  his  life  and  known  his 
deepest  sorrows  and  keenest  joys.  He  was  proud 
of  it. 

Its  settlement  was  in  a  large  measure  his  work.  But 
he  was  homeless  in  the  land  where  he  had  founded 
homes  for  others. 

He  made  a  brief  visit  to  his  birthplace  in  Pennsyl- 
vania, then  went  to  Virginia,  where  he  found  a  lonely 
spot  near  Point  Pleasant  on  the  Great  Kanawha  in  the 
center  of  a  rich  game  district.  There  he  lived  for  five 
years,  finding  quiet  enjoyment  in  the  wild  woods  with 
his  gun  and  his  dogs.  Then  there  came  to  him  glowing 
reports  from  the  land  beyond  the  Mississippi.  He  had 
a  brother  and  son  there,  and  their  descriptions  of  life  in 
that  region  made  him  think  of  early  days  in  Ken- 
tucky. He  determined  to  join  them.  So  at  sixty  years 
of  age,  the  great  pioneer,  accompanied  by  his  faithful 
wife,  started  west  again,  away  from  civilization  into 
the  wilderness. 

This  was  a  fortunate  move.  His  fame  had  gone 
before  him  and  he  received  a  warm  welcome.  The 
Spanish  governor  saw  what  an  influence  the  coming  of 
such  a  man  as  Boone  would  have  on  the  settlement  of 


OLD   AGE.  65 

the  territory  and  was  glad  to  honor  him.  He  made 
him  commander  of  the  Femme  Osage  District  in  what 
is  now  the  state  of  Missouri,  and  presented  him  with 
eight  thousand  five  hundred  acres  of  land. 

He  worked  hard  at  trapping  and  hunting  and  when 
he  had  saved  some  money  returned  to  Kentucky.  The 
growth  of  civilization  there  seemed  almost  magical  to 
the  man  who  could  remember  the  winter  when  he  was 
the  only  white  inhabitant  of  the  vast  territory.  But 
curiosity  had  not  brought  the  pioneer  to  Kentucky. 
He  had  come  to  return  the  money  he  had  lost  by  that 
unfortunate  robbery,  and  so  relieve  his  mind  from  a 
burden  that  had  troubled  him  for  more  than  fifteen 
years.  He  hunted  up  every  man  to  whom  he  was 
indebted,  and  having  paid  every  dollar  he  owed,  returned 
to  Missouri  with  a  much  lighter  heart  and  a  much 
lighter  pocket-book. 

He  was  well  pleased  with  his  new  home.  Its  great 
forests  and  simple  people  suited  him.  Here  he  lived 
over  the  delights  of  his  old  Kentucky  life  without  suf- 
fering its  hardships. 

At  the  age  of  seventy-five,  and  until  his  eyesight 
failed,  he  was  as  great  a  hunter  as  in  his  younger  days. 
Sometimes  he  would  spend  days  and  weeks  in  the  woods, 
far  from  any  settlement,  and  exposed  to  all  sorts  of 
danger. 

There  were  still  many  Indians  in  that  part  of  the 
country,  and  some  of  them  were  always  making  trouble 


66  DANIEL    BOONE. 

for  the  white  settlers.  But  Boone  understood  them  so 
well,  and  was  so  shrewd  in  his  dealings  with  them,  that 
they  were  never  able  to  harm  him. 

When  in  the  woods,  however,  he  was  obliged  to  be 
very  watchful.  He  knew  how  to  place  his  beaver  traps 
where  the  Indians  could  not  find  them;  he  knew  how  to 
conceal  his  own  trail  so  that  they  could  not  follow  it; 
even  the  little  hut,  in  which  he  lived  when  out  hunting, 
was  so  well  hidden  in  some  leafy  thicket  that  no  one 
could  guess  where  to  look  for  it. 

In  the  trapping  of  beavers,  Boone  took  the  greatest 
delight.  Paddling  alone  in  his  light  canoe,  he  explored 
the  creeks  and  streamlets  in  his  neighborhood,  and  even 
the  great  Missouri  itself,  setting  his  traps  and  gathering 
a  rich  harvest  of  furs. 

At  one  time,  with  a  little  negro  boy  twelve 
years  old,  he  took  pack-horses  and  made  a  long  jour- 
ney through  the  woods  to  the  country  on  the  Osage 
River.  There  he  built  a  winter  camp,  intending  to 
hunt  and  trap  until  he  had  skins  enough  to  load  his 
horses. 

He  had  hardly  laid  in  his  supplies  for  the  winter, 
before  he  was  taken  very  sick.  For  weeks  he  la}'  in  the 
little  hut  with  no  one  to  care  for  him  but  the  little 
negro  boy.  "Tom,''  he  said,  ''if  I  die  you  must  bury 
me  under  the  great  oak  on  the  top  of  that  hill.  Then 
you  must  catch  the  horses,  tie  the  blankets  and  skins 
on  their  backs,  and  take  them  home.     Be  sure  to  take 


OLD    AGE.  67 

my  rifle  with  you,  too;  and  tell  all  the  folks  at  home 
that  I  remembered  them  to  the  last." 

But  toward  spring  the  old  man  rallied  and  soon  grew 
strong  again;  and  on  the  first  fine  day  he  broke  up 
camp,  mounted  one  of  his  horses,  and  returned  home; 
but  he  did  not  carry  many  beaver  skins  with  him  that 
time. 

So  long  as  the  Spanish  and  the  French  had  control  of 
the  Missouri  country,  Boone  was  safe  in  the  possession 
of  his  lands.  But  when  the  territory  came  into  the 
hands  of  the  United  States,  the  government  refused  to 
recognize  his  claim. 

In  the  meantime  Kentucky  had  become  a  state,  and 
in  his  distress  Boone  appealed  to  its  legislature  for  help. 
Glad  to  serve  the  founder  of  the  state,  the  legislature  had 
the  matter  presented  to  Congress.  In  consideration  for 
his  services  to  the  country  Congress  granted  Colonel 
Boone  eight  hundred  and  fifty  acres  of  land. 

In  December,  181 3,  Boone  received  word  of  this 
gift,  but  the  enjoyment  of  the  good  news  was  blighted 
by  the  death  of  his  wife.  Boone  chose  a  beautiful  spot 
overlooking  the  river  for  her  grave  and  expressed  a 
wish  to  be  buried  beside  her. 

Boone  was  now  a  silvery-haired  old  man.  His  eyes 
were  too  dim  to  hunt ;  and  he  spent  the  remainder  of 
his  life  in  peace  and  content  with  his  sons  and  daugh- 
ters. You  may  be  sure  he  was  a  most  delightful  grand- 
father and  always  had  a  story  to  tell  the  boys. 


68 


DANIEL   BOONE. 


He  died,  in  1820,  at  the  age  of  eighty-five,  surrounded 
by  relatives  and  loving  friends,  and  was  buried  beside 
his  wife.  But  twenty-five  years  later  the  remains  of 
both  were  removed  to  the  cemetery  of  Frankfort,  Ken- 
tucky, with  great  pomp  and  ceremony.  So  the  noble 
pioneer  is  at  rest  in  the  land  he  loved. 


BOONE'S  MONUMENT,    FRANKFORT,   KY, 


THE    PIONEERS.  69 

THE  PIONEERS. 

Here  once  Boone  trod — the  hardy  pioneer — 

The  only  white  man  in  the  wilderness; 
Oh!  how  he  loved  alone  to  hunt  the  deer, 

Alone  at  eve  his  simple  meal  to  dress; 
No  mark  upon  the  tree,  nor  print,  nor  track, 
To  lead  him  forward,  or  to  guide  him  back; 
He  roved  the  forest,  king  by  main  and  might, 
And  looked  up  to  the  sky  and  shaped  his  course  aright. 

The  mountain  there,  that  lifts  its  bald,  high  head 

Above  the  forest  was,  perchance,  his  throne; 
There  has  he  stood  and  marked  the  woods  outspread 

Like  a  great  kingdom  that  was  all  his  own. 
In  hunting-shirt  and  moccasins  arrayed, 
With  bearskin  cap,  and  pouch,  and  needful  blade, 
How  carelessly  he  leaned  upon  his  gun, 
That  scepter  of  the  wild  that  had  so  often  won! 

Those  western  pioneers  an  impulse  felt, 

Which  their  less  hardy  sons  scarce  comprehend; 

Alone,  in  Nature's  wildest  scenes  they  dwelt, 
Where  crag  and  precipice  and  torrent  blend, 

And  stretched  around  the  wilderness,  as  rude 

As  the  red  rovers  of  its  solitude, 

Who  watched  their  coming  with  a  hate  profound. 

And  fought  with  deadly  strife  for  every  inch  of  ground. 

To  shun  a  greater  ill  sought  they  the  wild  ? 

No;  they  left  happier  lands  behind  them  far, 
And  brought  the  nursing  mother  and  her  child 

To  share  the  dangers  of  the  border  war. 
The  log-built  cabin  from  the  Indian  barred. 
Their  little  boy,  perchance,  kept  watch  and  ward, 
While  father  plowed  with  rifle  at  his  back, 
Or  sought  the  glutted  foe  through  many  a  devious  track. 


70  DANIEL    BOONE. 

How  cautiously  yet  fearlessly,  that  boy 

Would  search  the  forest  for  the  wild  beast's  lair. 
And  lift  his  rifle  with  a  hurried  joy, 

If  chance  he  spied  the  Indian  lurking  there  ! 
And  should  they  bear  him  prisoner  from  the  fight, 
While  they  are  sleeping  in  the  dead  midnight 
He  slips  the  thongs  that  bind  him  to  the  tree, 
And  leaving  death  with  them,  bounds  home  right  happily. 

Before  the  mother,  bursting  through  the  door, 
The  red  man  rushes  where  her  infants  rest; 

Oh,  God  !  he  hurls  them  on  the  cabin  floor. 

And  she,  down  kneeling,  clasps  them  to  her  breast 

How  he  exjilts  and  revels  in  her  woe, 

And  lifts  the  weapon,  yet  delays  the  blow  ! 

Ha  !  that  report !  behold,  he  reels,  he  dies  ! 

And  quickly  to  her  arms  the  husband,  father,  flies. 

In  the  long  winter  eve,  their  cabin  fast. 

The  big  logs  blazing  in  the  chimney  wide, 
They'd  hear  the  Indian  howling,  or  the  blast, 
And  deem  themselves  in  castellated  pride. 
Then  would  the  fearless  forester  disclose 
Most  strange  adventures  with  his  sylvan  foes. 
Of  how  his  arts  did  over  theirs  prevail. 
And  how  he  followed  far  upon  their  bloody  trail. 

And  it  was  happiness,  they  said,  to  stand, 

When  summer  smiled  upon  them  in  the  wood, 

And  see  the  little  clearing  there  expand, 
And  be  the  masters  of  the  solitude. 

Danger  was  but  excitement;  and  when  came 

The  tide  of  emigration,  life  grew  tame; 

Then  would  they  seek  some  unknown  wild  anew, 

And  soon  above  the  trees,  the  smoke  was  curling  blue. 

F.  W.  Thomas- 


THE    STORY    OF 
GEORGE    ROGERS    CLARK 

By  KATHERINE    BEEBE 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 


GEORGE   ROGERS  CLARK 

THE    HERO    OF    THE    NORTHWEST 


I. — Boyhood  and  Youth. 

George  Rogers  Clark  was  born  in  Virginia.  The 
state  which  claims  George  Washington,  Thomas  Jeffer- 
son and  Patrick  Henry  is  proud  to  call  him  her  son. 
His  ancestors  were  Scotch  and  English.  They  settled 
in  Virginia  at  an  early  day,  near  Charlottesville,  which 
is  not  far  from  Monticello,  the  home  and  burial  place  of 
Thomas  Jefferson. 

Jefferson  was  so  much  older  than  Clark  that  they  did 
not  see  much  of  each  other  as  boys,  although  they  lived 
so  near  together.  After  they  were  men  they  became 
good  friends. 

There  were  few  schools  in  Virginia  when  George 
Clark  was  a  boy,  and  he  was  not  able  to  get  much  of 
an  education.  One  of  his  schoolmates  was  James 
Madison,  who  afterwards  became  president  of  the  United 
States.  George's  favorite  studies  were  mathematics  and 
surveying. 

When  Clark  was  nineteen  years  old  he  joined  an  expe- 

73 


74  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

dition  that  was  going  to  the  Ohio  valley.  He  went  as 
a  surveyor,  and  intended  to  take  up  some  land,  and  set- 
tle in  the  West.  The  party,  traveling  on  horseback  and 
in  canoes,  were  obliged  to  take  great  care  not  to  be  dis- 
covered by  the  Indians. 

Clark  found  his  land  near  the  place  where  the  city  of 
Wheeling,  West  Virginia,  now  stands.  He  built  a  cabin, 
and  lived  there  for  some  time,  hunting,  fishing,  im- 
proving his  land,  and  earning  money  by  surveying. 
He  wrote  to  his  parents  that  he  liked  this  rough 
pioneer  life  very  much.  In  1773  he  went  with  a 
party  of  Virginians  farther  down  the  river,  towards 
Kentucky. 

Two  years  before  the  Declaration  of  Independence  was 
signed  there  was  a  short,  but  hard-fought,  war  in  the 
Ohio  valley.  Some  friendly  Shawnee  Indians,  and  the 
family  of  a  chief  named  Logan,  were  killed  by  white 
men.  This  caused  all  the  border  Indians  to  "take 
up  the  hatchet."  Houses  were  burned,  cattle  and 
crops  destroyed,  men,  women,  and  children  killed,  and 
many  scalps  taken.  The  Indians  were  finally  defeated 
in  battle  and  forced  to  make  peace. 

This  trouble  has  been  called  "Dunmore's  War," 
because  it  was  thought  that  Lord  Dunmore,  the  royal 
governor  of  Virginia,  was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  It  was 
believed  that  the  white  men  who  killed  the  friendly 
Indians  were  acting  under  his  orders.  In  this  war 
young  George  Rogers  Clark  took  a  part. 


•*KENTUCKI."  75 

11.  —  ^'Kentucki.'* 

In  1775  many  settlers  were  emigrating  to  what  is  now 
the  state  of  Kentucky.  Among  them  were  some  of 
George  Clark's  friends.  He  decided  to  go  with  them, 
and  do  as  he  had  done  before,  make  his  way  by  survey- 
ing, and  take  up  land  for  a  home. 

He  wrote  back  to  Virginia  that  Kentucky  was  a 
beautiful  country,  and  that  he  was  sure  his  father  would 
join  him  if  he  could  only  see  how  rich  the  land  was. 
Several  years  later  his  father  and  mother  made  their 
home  at  Mulberry  Hill,  near  the  place  where  the  city  of 
Louisville  now  stands. 

Clark  went  from  one  part  of  the  new  country  to  the 
other,  often  leading  the  backwoodsmen  who  served  as 
Indian  fighters.  He  soon  became  prominent  among  the 
frontiersmen.  He  seemed  to  forget  that  he  had  come  to 
the  new  country  to  take  up  land  and  make  money  by 
surveying,  for  he  found  so  much  to  do  for  the  struggling 
settlements  that  he  had  no  time  to  think  of  himself. 

The  Indians  were  on  the  warpath  most  of  the  time, 
and  there  was  but  little  powder  among  the  settlers. 
Kentucky  was  so  far  away  from  Virginia  that  it  scarcely 
seemed  to  be  a  part  of  it.  For  these  reasons  Clark 
determined  to  find  out  whether  the  mother  state  would 
protect  her  border  settlements,  or  whether  the  pioneers 
would  have  to  form  a  new  state  and  take  care  of  them- 
selves.    A  meeting  was  held  in  Harrodsburg  in  which 


76  GEORGE    ROGERS    CLARK. 

the  people  chose  George  Clark  and  John  Jones  to  go  to 
Virginia  for  them.  They  were  to  find  out  what  could 
be  done  for  the  protection  of  the  settlements. 

Clark  and  Jones  set  out  alone,  traveling  overland 
instead  of  by  the  river.  A  long  and  dangerous  journey 
was  before  them.  The  ground  was  wet  and  muddy ; 
there  were  hills,  mountains,  and  swollen  streams  to  be 
crossed ;  there  were  signs  of  hostile  Indians  every- 
where. 

They  had  not  gone  far  before  they  lost  one  of  their 
horses,  and  all  the  baggage  had  to  be  placed  on  the  other. 
The  feet  of  both  men  were  often  wet  for  days  together, 
and  they  dared  not  make  a  fire  for  fear  of  being  discovered 
by  Indians.  The  soles  of  their  feet  became  blistered,  so 
much  so  that  Clark  afterwards  said  that  he  ''traveled  in 
more  torment  than  he  had  ever  before  experienced." 

As  the  two  men  approached  Cumberland  they  hoped 
to  obtain  relief,  but  on  reaching  the  place  they  found  it 
burned  and  deserted.  Painfully  they  pushed  on  towards 
the  next  settlement,  Martin's  Fort,  only  to  find  that  it, 
too,  had  been  abandoned. 

The  next  settlement  was  sixty  miles  away.  They 
could  not  travel  any  longer,  for  they  now  had  what 
hunters  call  "scald  feet";  there  was  nothing  to  be  done 
but  stay  where  they  were  till  help  should  come. 

They  decided  to  fortify  themselves  in  the  strongest  of 
the  deserted  cabins,  burn  the  others,  so  that  Indians 
could  not  hide  in  or  behind  them,   and  cure  their  feet 


"  KENTUCKI."  77 

with  the  oil  and  ooze  of  oak  bark.  A  few  hogs  had 
been  left  behind  when  the  settlers  of  Martin's  Fort  had 
fled,  and  our  adventurers  caught  and  killed  some  of 
them.  The  door  of  the  cabin  they  chose  was  found  to 
be  fastened.  Clark  cHmbed  to  the  roof,  knocked  off 
part  of  the  chimney,  and  dropped  down  inside.  He 
opened  the  door,  and  both  men  set  to  work,  preparing 
for  defense. 

The  meat  was  brought  in;  a  barrel  was  filled  with 
water ;  rifles  and  pistols  were  laid  out  on  a  table.  In  case 
of  attack  Jones  was  to  load  and  Clark  was  to  fire.  Wood 
and  corn  were  added  to  their  stores,  loopholes  cut  in  the 
walls,  and  doors  and  windows  barred. 

This  work  occupied  them  till  evening.  As  soon  as 
the  wand  changed  they  meant  to  burn  the  other  build- 
ings, and  were  just  about  to  do  so  when  they  heard  a 
horse  bell.  They  at  once  prepared  themselves  for 
Indians,  but,  to  their  great  joy,  soon  discovered  that  the 
horse  belonged  to  white  men,  who  had  come  back  to 
Martin's  Fort  for  some  things  that  had  been  hidden  and 
left  behind. 

These  white  men,  when  they  saw  smoke  coming  from 
the  chimney  of  the  cabin,  had  made  ready  to  fight 
Indians.  They  were  as  glad  as  Clark  and  Jones  were  to 
meet  white  men  instead  of  red. 

With  these  friendly  helpers  the  travelers  crossed  the 
mountains,  but  found  they  were  too  late  to  meet  the 
Virginia  Assembly  that  spring.     They  made  their  plans 


78 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 


to  wait  for  the  autumn  meeting  ;  for  only  the  Assembly 
had  the  power  to  grant  the  Kentuckians  the  help  and 
protection  they  needed. 

Jones  joined  the  troops  then  being  raised  to  fight  the 
Cherokee  Indians.  Clark  went  to  Williamsburg  to  see 
what  he  could  do  about  getting  some  powder.  On  this 
errand  he  went  to  see  Governor  Patrick  Henry,  who  was 
in  favor  of  doing  all  that  was  possible  to  assist  the  fron- 
tiersmen. Clark,  nevertheless,  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
getting  the  powder  they  so  sorely  needed.  He  wrote  to 
those  in  authority  that  if  the  Kentucky 
country  belonged  to  Virginia  it  was  to 
her  interest  to  protect  it  ;  that  if  it  was 
not  worth  protecting,  it  was  not  worth 
claiming ;  that  if  Virginia  did  not 
send  relief  the  settlers  must  seek  help 
elsewhere,  or  form  an  independent 
state. 

After  much  anxiety  and  long  delay 
Clark  received  an  order  for  five  hundred  pounds  of 
powder.  He  at  once  wrote  to  Kentucky  for  men  to 
take  it  down  the  Ohio  River.  This  letter  was  lost, 
as  letters  often  were  in  those  days,  for  the  messenger 
was  either  killed  or  captured  by  the  Indians. 

In  the  autumn,  when  the  Assembly  met,  Clark  and 
Jones  presented  the  claims  of  the  Kentucky  settlements. 
After  considerable  difficulty  and  disappointment  they 
had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  their  chosen  home 


PATRICK  HENRY. 


'KENTUCKI. 


79 


was  in  the  "  County  of  Kentucki,"  and  under  the  pro- 
tection of  Virginia. 

Hearing  nothing  from  home,  they  decided  that  they 
must  take  the  powder  down  the  river  themselves.  It 
was  late  in  the  fall  before  they  were  able  to  start;  but, 
late  or  not,  they  felt  that  it  ought  to  reach  Kentucky 
as  soon  as  possible,  for  they  knew  that  the  Indians 
would  be  again  on  the  warpath  as  soon  as  winter  was 
over. 

With  seven  men  they  set  out  on  their  journey  down 
the  Ohio.  They  were  soon  discovered  and  pursued  by 
their  savage  foes,  and  were  finally  obliged  to  hide  the 
powder  in  four  or  five  places  along  the  river  bank. 
They  ran  the  boat  some  miles  farther  down  stream,  set 
it  adrift,  and  then  started  across  the  country  towards 
Harrodsburg,  where  Clark  intended  to  get  a  larger  force 
of  men  to  go  back  for  the  powder.  On  the  way  he  met 
four  explorers,  who  told  him  that  his  friend  John  Todd, 
with  a  number  of  men,  was  in  the  vicinity.  This 
decided  Clark  to  push  on  to  Harrodsburg  with  two  men, 
leaving  Jones  and  the  others  to  await  the  party  he  ex- 
pected to  send. 

Soon  after  Clark  had  gone  Todd,  with  ten  men,  met 
Jones  and  his  little  band.  The  two  parties  concluded 
not  to  wait  for  the  Harrodsburg  men,  but  to  go  after  the 
powder  themselves.  They  had  not  gone  far  before  they 
met  a  large  body  of  Indians.  A  short  and  fierce  battle 
was  fought,   which   went   hard   with   the  white   men. 


8o  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

Jones  and  several  others  were  killed,  and  the  rest  were 
taken  prisoners;  but  these  unfortunate  men  did  not  let 
the  Indians  know  where  the  powder  was  hidden.  A 
little  later  the  men  sent  by  Clark  brought  it  safely  to  the 
settlements. 


III. — The  Conquest  of  Illinois. 

About  this  time,  a  large  number  of  Indians  appeared 
suddenly  near  Harrodsburg.  They  shot  at  some  boys 
who  were  playing  in  the  woods,  and  captured  one  of 
them.  The  others  made  their  escape  and  gave  the 
alarm. 

A  party  of  men  at  once  set  out  in  pursuit,  but  they  did 
not  find  the  Indians.  This  was  fortunate  for  the  settlers, 
for  the  savages  so  far  outnumbered  the  white  men  that 
the  latter  would  certainly  have  been  defeated,  and  in 
those  troublous  times  the  loss  of  even  one  man  was  a 
serious  thing. 

Part  of  the  town  had  been  deserted  as  soon  as  the  news 
was  brought  in  by  the  boys.  Men,  women,  and  children 
left  their  homes  to  take  refuge  in  the  fort.  It  was  well 
they  did  so  in  time,  for,  in  the  early  morning,  the 
Indians  again  appeared  and  set  fire  to  the  empty  houses. 
Again  the  brave  pioneers  set  out  to  attack  their  foes,  but 
they  were  soon  obliged  to  retreat. 

This  was  the  opening  of  another  Indian  war.  Many 
men,  women,  and  children  were  killed;  prisoners  were 


THE    CONQUEST   OF    ILLINOIS.  8l 

taken  and  tortured;  homes  were  burned,  and  cattle  and 
crops  destroyed  on  every  side.  It  seemed  for  a  time  as 
if  Kentucky  must  become  again  the  Indian  hunting 
ground  which  it  had  been  before  the  sturdy  backwoods- 
men determined  to  make  it  their  home. 

Virginia's  new  county  was  indeed  in  a  sad  plight.  It 
was  hundreds  of  miles  from  the  mother  state,  and  over- 
run with  savages.  The  settlers  were  forced  to  spend 
most  of  the  time  defending  the  forts,  tending  the 
wounded,  and  burying  the  dead.  They  could  raise  no 
crops,  and  so  had  to  depend  almost  entirely  on  the  hunt- 
ers for  food.  These  men  were  so  often  killed  or  cap- 
tured by  the  Indians  that  it  was  only  by  taking  the 
utmost  care  that  they  were  able  to  do  their  work.  They 
were  obliged  to  set  out  before  daylight,  that  they  might 
not  be  seen  by  their  watchful  foes,  and  to  remain  away 
until  dark  for  the  same  reason. 

England  and  America  being  at  war,  the  British  at 
Detroit  were  urging  the  Indians  to  attack  the  frontier 
settlements.  Agents  were  sent  among  the  tribes  with 
promises  and  presents.  Scalps  of  American  men, 
women,  and  children  were  bought  and  paid  for.  Bitter 
indeed  was  the  feeling  in  Kentucky  against  the  English 
officers  who  so  abused  their  power,  and  many  were  the 
backwoodsmen  who  longed  for  revenge.  Especially 
was  this  true  of  those  whose  wives,  children,  or  friends 
had  been  killed  or  captured. 

The   situation   grew   worse   as  the  season  advanced. 


82  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

Clark  began  to  fear  that  the  Kentiickians  would  have  to 
surrender  entirely  and  be  carried  away  to  Detroit,  to 
become  the  prisoners  of  the  British.  A  ray  of  hope 
arrived  with  Captain  John  Bowman,  who  was  sent  from 
Virginia  with  a  company  of  men.  Clark  nevertheless 
knew  that  he  himself  must  go  to  war  seriously  if  his 
country  was  to  be  saved.  The  people  were  looking  to 
him  for  help,  and  he  therefore  decided  to  go  to  Virginia 
and  tell  their  sad  story  there. 

He  declared  that  unless  something  was  done  at  once, 
Kentucky  would  be  lost ;  that  if  that  came  to  pass,  not 
only  would  there  be  no  more  supplies  of  food  and  furs 
sent  from  the  west,  but  Virginia  would  have  to  send 
extra  troops  to  guard  her  borders.  This  work  Ken- 
tucky was  now  doing  as  best  she  could. 

Clark  knew  that  the  British  commanders  of  the  forts 
in  Illinois  and  at  Detroit  were  inciting  the  Indians  against 
the  Americans.  He  wished  to  march  to  these  posts,  and, 
by  capturing  them,  put  an  end  to  English  influence 
among  the  Indian  tribes.  He  had  already  sent  spies 
into  the  Illinois  country,  and  had  learned  from  them  the 
condition  of  the  fort  at  Kaskaskia,  and  of  the  French 
towns  near  by.  He  had  been  informed  that  the  British 
were  not  expecting  an  attack,  and  that  they  were 
influencing  the  French  people  against  the  Americans. 
The  French  had  always  had  great  influence  with  the 
Indians,  hence  Clark  hoped  that  if  he  took  the  Illinois 
towns  he  would  make  friends  of  them,  and  that  they,  in 


THE    CONQUEST    OF    ILLINOIS.  83 

their  turn,  would  help  him  to  put  an  end  to  the  horrible 
border  warfare  then  going  on. 

After  explaining  all  these  things,  Clark  asked  Gov- 
ernor Henry  for  troops,  that  he  might  carry  out  his 
plan.  The  governor  gave  him  permission  to  raise  the 
companies  he  needed,  and  declared  himself  much  pleased 
with  Clark's  idea. 

Colonel  Clark  soon  found  that  he  had  set  himself  a 
hard  task.  It  was  very  difficult  to  find  men  who  were 
not  needed  at  home  or  had  not  already  enlisted  in  their 
country's  service.  He  managed  to  secure  a  promise 
from  the  government  that  three  hundred  acres  of  land 
in  the  conquered  territory  should  be  given  to  each  man 
who  helped  to  win  it.  This  promise,  which  was  after- 
wards fulfilled,  was  of  great  assistance  to  him,  and  he 
finally  succeeded  in  recruiting  a  number  of  men. 

The  plan  of  capturing  the  Illinois  towns  was,  for  a 
time,  kept  secret.  The  men  supposed  that  they  were 
merely  going  to  protect  the  Kentucky  border. 

When  Clark  started  down  the  Ohio  River  he  had  about 
one  hundred  and  seventy-five  men,  instead  of  the  five 
hundred  he  had  hoped  to  have.  The  first  stopping 
place  was  Corn  Island,  opposite  the  place  where  Louis- 
ville  now  stands,  which  was  then  called  the  Falls  of  the 
Ohio.  This  island  no  longer  exists  ;  it  was  gradually 
swept  away  by  the  swift  current  of  the  river. 

At  the  time  of  Clark's  landing  it  was  about  seventy 
acres  in  extent.     Some  twenty  families  had  come  with 


84  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

him  and  his  troops,  and  they  decided  to  settle  on  the 
island.  Clark  divided  the  land  among  them,  that  each 
man  might  have  his  own  garden,  and  detailed  a  few  of 
his  soldiers  for  their  protection. 

The  time  had  now  come  to  reveal  to  the  men  the  true 
object  of  the  expedition.  Most  of  them  were  willing 
and  anxious  to  follow  their  brave  leader.  On  the 
twenty-fourth  of  June,  1778,  they  left  Corn  Island  for 
Kaskaskia. 

At  the  very  moment  of  departure  the  sun  was  dark- 
ened by  an  eclipse,  which  must  have  greatly  astonished 
them  all.  They  regarded  it  as  a  good  omen,  however, 
and  set  off  with  cheers  and  rejoicings.  The  boats  were 
rowed  down  the  river,  the  rowers  working  in  relays 
day  and  night,  to  a  point  about  three  miles  below  the 
mouth  of  the  Tennessee.  Near  the  place  where  Fort 
Massac,  an  old  French  outpost,  had  once  stood,  the  party 
landed. 

Before  the  landing  took  place,  a  canoe  containing  a 
party  of  hunters  was  stopped.  Clark  was  glad  to  learn 
from  these  men  that  they  had  just  come  from  Kaskaskia. 
They  told  him  that  the  fort  there  was  in  good  condition 
and  well  defended,  but  that  no  one  thought  the  Ameri- 
cans would  really  attack  it.  They  were  sure  both  fort 
and  town  would  be  easily  captured  if  taken  by  surprise. 
They  said  that  if  the  approach  of  the  Americans  was 
discovered  the  French  people  of  the  town  would  take 
sides  with  the  English,  for  the  English  officers  had  told 


THE    CONQUEST    OF    ILLINOIS. 


85 


the  townsfolk  such  terrible  stories  about  the  American 
backwoodsmen  that  they  were  much  afraid  of  them. 

The  hunters  offered  to  join  Clark's  forces,  and  one  of 
them  said  he  would  act  as  guide  from  the  river  to  Kas- 
kaskia.     This  offer  was  thankfully  accepted;  the  land- 


ing was  made; 
the  boats  were 
hidden,  and  the 
dered  forward, 
of  the  march 
swampy     land; 


men  were  or- 
The  first  part 
was  through 
the  rest  of  the 


way  was  over  the  open  prairie.  By  looking  at  the  map, 
you  can  see  the  course  of  the  march  from  Fort  Massac' 
On  the  third  day  the  guide  appeared  to  be  confused, 
and  said  he  had  lost  his  way.  This  immediately  aroused 
the  suspicions  of  both  Colonel  Clark  and  his  men. 
They  began  to  fear  that  they  were  being  led  into  a  trap, 


86  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

and  that  they  might  be  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy.  Clark  said  it  was  very  strange  that  a  man  who 
knew  his  way  perfectly  three  days  before  should  now  be 
in  doubt  of  it.  He  did  not  think  it  possible  for  any  one 
to  go  from  Kaskaskia  to  the  river  without  learning  the 
route  well. 

The  guide  seemed  very  uncomfortable,  and  the 
soldiers  grew  more  and  more  angry.  He  was  finally 
told  that  unless  he  found  the  trail  he  would  be  shot. 
He  begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  a  certain  place  a  little 
distance  away,  from  which  he  was  sure  he  could  find  out 
where  they  were.  Some  of  Clark's  men  were  sent  with 
him,  and  he  soon  proved  his  words  true.  He  dis- 
covered the  landmarks  he  had  hoped  to  find,  and  was 
once  more  sure  of  his  way.  He  had  really  been  lost 
and  bewildered,  and  the  suspicions  against  him  were 
unfounded. 

On  the  evening  of  July  fourth  the  Americans  reached 
Kaskaskia.  They  halted  about  three  quarters  of  a  mile 
from  town,  then  cautiously  approached  a  house  on  the 
river  bank.  The  French  family  living  in  it  were  taken 
prisoners,  and  boats  were  secured  in  which  the  troops 
crossed  to  the  other  side  after  dark.  Colonel  Clark, 
with  part  of  his  men,  went  to  the  fort;  the  rest  were 
sent  to  take  possession  of  the  town. 

There  was  a  dance  at  the  fort  that  night,  at  which 
most  of  the  British  officers  and  many  of  the  towns- 
people were   present.     The  American   soldiers   placed 


THE    CONQUEST    OF    ILLINOIS.  8? 

themselves  on  guard  in  silence,  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
gayety  Clark  stepped  just  inside  the  door.  He  stood 
there,  in  his  rough  backwoodsman's  dress,  surveying 
the  scene  with  a  grim  smile.  No  one  noticed  the 
stranger  at  the  door,  until  an  Indian,  who  was  sitting 
on  the  floor,  chanced  to  look  that  way.  He  eyed  Clark 
closely  for  a  moment,  and  then  sprang  to  his  feet  with 
a  yell.  Immediately  there  was  great  confusion  and 
alarm. 

^^  "There  is  no  danger,"  said  the  American  quietly. 
"Go  on  with  your  fun.  Only  remember  that  you  are 
now  dancing  under  the  flag  of  Virginia,  and  not  that  of 
England." 

In  a  very  short  time  the  town  was  in  the  possession 
of  the  Americans.  The  commander  of  the  fort,  Philip 
Rocheblave,  was  captured  in  his  bed. 

Clark  learned  that  many  of  the  townspeople  were 
inclined  to  be  friendly  to  the  Americans,  but  that  others 
had  been  told  such  terrible  stories  of  their  fierceness  and 
cruelty  that  they  were  greatly  frightened  to  find  them- 
selves  in  their  power.  He  decided  to  appear  very  severe 
at  first,  in  order  to  surprise  the  people  more  completely 
by  his  kindness  later  on. 

When  the  priest  and  several  of  the  leading  French 
citizens  came  to  talk  to  Colonel  Clark  and  his  ofiicers 
they  must  have  thought  them  little  better  than  savages 
Much  of  their  clothing  had  been  left  with  the  boats,  and 
what  they  had  on  had  been  badly  torn  by  bushes  and 


88  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

briars  on  the  march.  Their  faces  were  dirty,  their  hair 
was  unkempt,  and  they  were  tired  and  worn  for  want  of 
food  and  rest. 

Each  party  looked  at  the  other  in  silence  for  a  time; 
then  one  of  the  Frenchmen  spoke.  He  said  he  knew 
that  the  townspeople  must  be  carried  away  from  their 
homes  as  prisoners,  and  he  begged  that  they  might  be 
allowed  to  meet  in  the  church  to  take  leave  of  each 
other. 

"You  may  do  as  you  please  about  going  to  the 
church,"  said  Colonel  Clark  sternly,  *'but  let  no  one 
dare  attempt  to  escape  from  the  town. ' ' 

The  frightened  citizens  flocked  to  the  church,  and 
men  were  again  sent  to  the  American  commander.  They 
humbly  thanked  him  for  permitting  them  to  meet 
together;  they  begged  that  when  the  prisoners  were 
taken  away  the  families  might  not  be  separated;  they 
asked  that  the  women  and  children  be  allowed  to  keep 
some  food  and  clothing. 

**Do  you  think  that  you  are  dealing  with  Indians?'* 
asked  Colonel  Clark  abruptly.  "Do  you  think  Amer- 
icans war  against  women  and  children  ?  We  came  to 
prevent  suffering,  not  to  cause  it !" 

He  then  went  on  to  explain  that  because  the  English 
commander  was  inciting  the  Indians  to  murder  their 
wives,  children,  and  friends,  the  Americans  had  marched 
against  Kaskaskia;  that  all  they  wanted  was  to  put  an 
end  to  Indian  wars;  that  the  king  of  France  was  now 


COLONEL  CLARK  AND  THE  INDIANS.         89 

the  friend  of  the  colonies;  that  their  church  should  not 
be  interfered  with;  that  no  property  should  be  destroyed 
and  no  prisoners  taken.  He  told  the  story  of  the 
trouble  between  England  and  America  which  had  led  to 
the  war  of  the  Revolution,  and  proved  to  them  that  what 
the  English  had  been  telling  them  of  the  Americans 
was  untrue. 

"You  may  go  back  to  your  homes  in  peace  and 
safety,"  said  he. 

Great  was  the  joy  of  the  Kaskaskians  on  hearing 
these  words.  They  declared  that  they  had  been  misled 
and  deceived ;  that  they  were  glad  to  be  friends  with  the 
Americans,  and  that  they  would  loyally  serve  them. 

When  affairs  at  Kaskaskia  were  well  settled,  Colonel 
Clark  sent  Captain  Bowman,  with  a  party  of  men,  to  the 
neighboring  town  of  Cahokia.  This  place,  like  Kas- 
kaskia, was  surprised  and  taken.  The  same  story  that 
was  made  known  in  one  town  was  told  in  the  other,  and 
with  the  same  result — the  French  were  glad  to  become 
the  friends  and  allies  of  the  Americans.  The  town  of 
Prairie  du  Rocher  and  the  settlement  at  Fort  Chartres 
were  also  taken  with  little  trouble  to  the  Americans. 


IV. — Colonel  Clark  and  the  Indians. 
When  the   Indians  in  and  about  Kaskaskia  realized 
that  the  Americans  were  in  control  they  quickly  disap- 
peared.    Colonel    Clark    was  very  anxious  to   gain  an 


90 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 


influence  over  these  Indians,  and,  with  that  end  in  view, 
managed  to  get  a  report  spread  among  them  that  more 
troops  were  expected   to  join   those  already  in  Illinois. 

He  was  wise  enough 
to  send  no  direct  mes- 
sage to  the  savages. 
He  wished  them  to 
think  that  he  did  not 
care  where  they  were  or 
what  they  did. 

The  town  of  Vin- 
cennes,  on  the  Wabash 
River,  was  a  larger  and 
more  important  post 
than  Kaskaskia.  It  was 
necessary  to  obtain  pos- 
session of  it,  in  order  to 
complete  the  conquest 
of  the  Illinois  country. 
Among  the  leading  cit- 
izens of  Kaskaskia  was 
Father  Gibault,  the 
Catholic  priest,  who 
had  become  the  firm 
friend  of  Colonel  Clark 
and  the  American 
cause.  He  assured  Clark  that  the  French  of  Vincennes 
would  do  as  the  people  of  Kaskaskia,  Cahokia,  Prairie 


THE 


FRENCH    SETTLEMENTS    ON  THE 
MISSISSIPPI. 


COLONEL  CLARK  AND  THE  INDIANS.         9I 

dii  Rocber,  and  Fort  Chartres  had  done,  if  they  only 
knew  the  true  state  of  affairs. 

He  offered  to  go  and  tell  them  the  real  reason  for  the 
quarrel  between  England  and  America,  for  be  was  sure 
they  had  been  as  much  deceived  and  misled  as  the  Kas- 
kasians  had  been.  He  said  that  he  would  make  known 
the  fact  that  the  French  king  was  now  the  friend  of 
the  Americans,  and  that  he  would  tell  how  Colonel  Clark 
treated  those  whom  he  conquered.  He  believed  that 
when  once  these  facts  were  known  the  flag  of  Virginia 
would  be  raised  over  Vincennes. 

This  proved  to  be  the  case.  Father  Gibault,  accom- 
panied by  Captain  Helm  and  a  small  party  of  men, 
successfully  performed  his  mission.  The  people  of  Vin- 
cennes declared  themselves  the  friends  of  the  Americans. 
Fort  Sackville  at  that  place  was  surrendered,  and  Cap- 
tain Helm  took  command  of  it  with  one  American  sol- 
dier and  some  Frenchmen  as  a  garrison. 

The  Indians  around  Vincennes  were  greatly  surprised 
when  the  English  flag  was  hauled  down  and  Virginia's 
colors  hoisted  in  its  place.  The  French  told  the  Indians 
that  their  Father,  the  king  of  France,  had  joined  forces 
with  the  "  lyong  Knives,"  as  the  Americans  were  called 
by  their  savage  foes,  and  advised  them  to  make  peace, 
lest  they  be  destroyed.  This  the  Indians  heard  on 
every  side,  and  it  made  a  deep  impression  on  them. 

One  of  the  most  powerful  chiefs  was  called  Tobacco's 
Son,    and   also  The-Grand-Door-to-the-Wabash.     Clark 


92  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

wished  to  make  friends  with  this  chief,  and  sent  him 
his  compliments  by  Father  Gibault.  He  also  sent  him 
a  speech  and  a  belt  by  Captain  Helm.  The  chief  had 
said  in  reply  that  now,  since  he  understood  the  situation, 
he  would  not  only  declare  friendship  with  the  Long 
Knives  himself,  but  he  would  advise  the  other  Wabash 
Indians  to  make  peace  at  once.  This  was  exactly  what 
Clark  wanted. 

As  the  news  of  these  events  spread,  many  Indians 
came  to  Cahokia  to  make  treaties  of  peace.  The 
English  at  Detroit  became  greatly  alarmed,  and  kept 
their  agents  busy  among  the  Indian  villages,  making 
presents  and  speeches.  The  French,  however,  worked 
among  the  tribes  in  the  interest  of  their  new  friends. 

Colonel  Clark  had  long  been  of  the  opinion  that  it 
was  a  mistake  to  make  friends  with  treacherous  savages 
by  giving  them  presents.  He  felt  that  such  a  course 
made  the  Indians  think  the  white  men  afraid  of  them. 
He  made  up  his  mind  not  to  give  those  with  whom  he 
treated  the  least  reason  for  believing  that  he  feared 
them.  Several  chiefs  asked  him  for  a  council,  to  which 
he  consented.  Indian  councils  were  always  conducted 
with  much  ceremony,  and  took  a  great  deal  of  time. 
Clark  made  a  point  of  being  even  more  ceremonious 
than  the  Indians  themselves,  and,  on  this  occasion,  let 
one  of  them  make  the  opening  speech. 

The  chief  laid  the  blame  of  all  the  border  warfare  on 
the  English,  whose  "bad  birds,"  as  he  called  the  agents. 


COLONEL  CLARK  AND  THE  INDIANS.         93 

had  been  flying  among  the  tribes.  At  the  end  of  the 
speech  many  Indians  threw  down  the  flags  and  war  belts 
sent  them  by  the  British,  and  stamped  on  them. 

"  I  will  think  over  what  you  have  said,"  said  Colonel 
Clark,  ''  and  tell  you  to-morrow  whether  the  Long 
Knives  will  forgive  you  or  destroy  you.'^ 

The  next  day  the  chief  of  the  Long  Knives  made  his 
speech.  ''  Men  and  warriors,"  said  he  sternly,  "listen 
to  my  words.  I  am  a  warrior,  not  a  counselor.  I  hold 
war  in  my  right  hand  and  peace  in  my  left.  I  am  sent 
by  the  Council  of  the  Long  Knives  to  take  possession 
of  all  the  towns  owned  by  the  English,  and  to  watch 
the  red  men.  I  will  make  bloody  the  paths  of  those 
who  stop  the  way  to  the  river.  I  will  open  such  paths 
for  those  who  are  friends,  that  women  and  children  may 
walk  in  them." 

At  the  close  of  the  speech  he  offered  a  peace  belt  and 
a  war  belt. 

"Take  whichever  you  please,"  said  he.  "If  you 
choose  the  war  belt  you  may  go  back  in  safety  to  your 
English  friends,  and  make  ready  to  fight.  If  you 
choose  the  peace  belt  you  shall  be  the  friends  of  the 
Long  Knives  and  of  the  French.  If  you  do  not  keep 
faith,  when  once  you  give  your  word,  you  shall  be 
destroyed." 

The  Indians  were  then  dismissed  to  think  over  what 
the  white  chief  had  said. 

They  came  together  again  on  the  next  day.     Colonel 


94 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 


Clark  seated  himself  at  a  table  with  great  dignity,  his 
oflScers  and  the  leading  citizens  of  the  town  standing 
near  by.  The  Indians  solemnly  kindled  a  fire.  Three 
chiefs  approached  Colonel  Clark,  one  carrying  a  peace 
belt,  one  a  peace  pipe,  and  the  other  fire  with  which 
to  light  it.      Here  Colonel  Clark  spoke. 

"  You  ought  to  be  thankful  to  the  Great  Spirit  who 
has  opened  your  eyes  and  hearts  to  the  truth  !  "  said  he. 

"The  Long  Knives  do  not  speak  like  any  other 
people,"  answered  a  chief.  "We  believe  you  speak  the 
truth,  and  that  the  English  have  deceived  us.  Some  of 
our  old  men  told  us  this  long  ago.  We  will  throw  the 
tomahawk  into  the  river.  We  will  also  send  news  to 
our  friends  of  the  good  talk  we  have  heard." 

The  pipe  of  peace  was  then  smoked  by  red  men 
and  white,  and  a  general  handshaking  followed. 

Many  councils  similar  to  this  one  were  held  in 
Cahokia.  Colonel  Clark  was  occupied  for  weeks  mak- 
ing and  listening  to  speeches.  One  by  one  the  tribes 
made  peace  until  all  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Illinois 
towns  might  fairly  be  counted  friendly. 


V. — Indian  Treaties. 

Colonel  Clark  wished  to  secure  peace  with  as  many 
tribes  as  possible,  not  only  that  the  Indian  war  might 
be  brought  to  an  end,  but  also  because  he  wished  to 


GEORGE  ROGERS   CI.ARK    "IN   COUNCII.   WITH   THE   INDIANS. 


From  the  painting  in  the  Illinois  State  House. 

95 


g6  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

keep  the  new  country  he  had  won  from  being  re-taken 
by  the  English.  He  had  such  a  small  force,  and  the 
Indians  were  so  numerous,  that  he  knew  he  would  be  in 
great  danger  if  they  did  not  come  over  to  the  American 
side.  There  were  often  hundreds  of  savages  gathered 
together  in  Cahokia,  and  Colonel  Clark  confessed,  in  a 
letter,  that  he  was  frequently  uneasy  lest  they  should 
suddenly  decide  to  unite  against  the  conquerors  of 
Illinois.  The  Indians,  however,  were  never  allowed  to 
discover  the  least  sign  of  anxiety.  Colonel  Clark  con- 
tinued to  act  as  though  he  cared  little  whether  they 
chose  peace  or  war,  but  he  was  nevertheless  doing 
everything  in  his  power  to  bring  about  treaties  of 
peace. 

He  interested  himself  in  a  chief  called  Black  Bird,  who 
was  a  leader  among  the  Lake  Michigan  tribes.  Black 
Bird  had  been  in  St.  Louis  when  Clark  took  Kaskaskia 
and  the  other  Illinois  towns.  As  soon  as  he  heard  the 
news  he  fled,  fearing  that  the  Long  Knives  would  at 
once  take  vengeance  on  him.  On  the  way  north  he 
and  his  braves  met  a  party  of  traders,  to  whom  they 
told  the  story  of  Clark's  conquest.  The  traders  tried  to 
persuade  the  Indians  to  go  back. 

"The  Long  Knives  will  think  you  are  afraid  of 
them,"   they  said. 

*'  My  family  is  sick,"  replied  Black  Bird;  "  I  will  go 
in  the  spring.  I  will  write  to  the  chief  of  the  Long 
Knives  at  Kaskaskia." 


INDIAN    TREATIES. 


97 


Black  Bird  did  write,  and  Colonel  Clark  answered  the 
letter.  He  was  most  anxious  to  win  over  this  chief 
who  had  great  influence  among  the  lake  Indians.  He 
paid  one  of  his  men  two  hundred  dollars  to  visit  Black 
Bird  at  St.  Joseph.  This  man  invited  the  chief  to  visit 
Clark  at  Cahokia.  He  accepted  the  invitation,  and 
arrived  with  eight  of  his  warriors.  Seeing  preparations 
for  the  usual  Indian  ceremonies,  he  at  once  sent  word 
to  Clark  that  such  forms  would  be  unnecessary  between 
them,  as  they  would  transact  their  business  like  white 
men.  When  he  met  Colonel  Clark  he  tried  to  behave 
like  a  very  polite  gentleman,  and  had  himself  introduced 
by  one  of  the  French  citizens. 

"I  have  for  some  time  wanted  a  council  with  some 
chief  of  the  Long  Knives,"  said  he.  "  I  have  grown 
doubtful  of  the  English,  and  there  are  some  matters 
which  I  should  like  to  have  explained." 

He  then  asked  such  intelligent  questions  that  Clark 
had  to  tell  him  the  whole  history  of  the  American 
colonies,  from  the  time  of  Columbus  down  to  that  day. 

"The  English  are  afraid  of  the  Long  Knives,"  said 
Black  Bird.  "  I  should  not  blame  you  if  you  destroyed 
all  the  Indians  who  are  unfriendly.  I  will  be  a  friend 
to  you.  '  I  will  make  my  people  your  friends  as  soon  as 
my  young  men  come  back  from  the  warpaths  they  now 
tread.  I  will  make  the  other  lake  tribes  your  friends 
also. " 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  this, ' '  answered  Colonel  Clark.    "  I 


98  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

will  write  the  great  chiefs  of  the  Long  Knives  that  Black 
Bird  has  become  their  friend." 

Black  Bird  kept  his  word.  He  not  only  became  the 
friend  of  the  Americans,  but  used  his  influence  among 
the  lake  tribes  for  their  cause,  as  he  had  said  he  would. 

Clark's  next  work  was  with  a  warrior  named  Big 
Gate.  This  chief,  when  a  boy,  had  been  with  the  great 
Pontiac  at  the  siege  of  Detroit.  The  Indian  boy  had 
shot  a  white  man  who  was  standing  at  the  gate  of  the 
fort.     From  that  time  he  had  borne  the  name  of  Big  Gate. 

He  heard  the  news  from  Illinois  and  came,  with  sev- 
eral followers,  to  see  Colonel  Clark.  He  had  the 
audacity  to  come  in  full  war  dress,  wearing  about  his 
neck  the  bloody  belt  he  had  received  from  the  English. 
For  several  days  he  attended  the  councils  which  Clark 
was  then  holding  with  various  chiefs  and  their  tribes. 
He  always  sat  in  front,  but  said  nothing.  Clark  had 
found  out  all  about  him,  but,  for  a  time,  paid  him  no 
attention.  He  finally  told  him,  however,  that  he  knew 
who  he  was,  but  that,  as  public  business  came  before 
private,  Big  Gate  must  excuse  him  if  he  did  not  speak 
with  him  till  later. 

"When  white  warriors  talk  with  their  enemies," 
said  Colonel  Clark,  "each  treats  the  other  with  the 
greatest  respect.  Each  honors  the  other  according  to 
his  exploits.  I  hope  that  you  will  remain  with  us  a  few 
days,  and  that  you  will  dine  with  me  and  my  ofiicers 
this  evening. '  * 


INDIAN    TREATIES.  99 

This  polite  speech  made  Big  Gate  very  nervous.  He 
tried  to  refuse  the  invitation,  but  Clark  would  not  take 
no  for  an  answer.  He  showed  the  discomfited  chief  so 
much  honor,  and  treated  him  with  such  great  ceremony, 
that  he  at  last  became  very  much  excited.  He  ran  to 
the  middle  of  the  room  and  took  off  his  war  belt.  He 
threw  this,  and  an  English  flag  which  he  carried,  to 
the  floor.  He  cast  off"  his  other  garments  one  by 
one,  until  he  had  almost  nothing  on.  Then  he  made  a 
speech. 

"  I  am  a  warrior, "  he  declared.  "I  have  delighted 
in  war  from  my  youth.  The  English  have  lied  to  me. 
I  thought  the  Long  Knives  in  the  wrong.  I  have 
fought  against  them  three  times,  and  was  ready  to  go 
on  the  warpath  again.  I  thought  I  would  come  to  see 
what  kind  of  people  they  are.  I  know  now  that 
they  are  in  the  right.  I  will  no  longer  be  on  the 
wrong  side." 

Big  Gate  then  struck  himself  violently  on  the  chest, 
saying  that  he  was  now  one  of  the  Long  Knives.  He 
began  to  shake  hands  all  around,  in  a  way  that  made 
great  fun  for  the  American  officers.  The  soldiers  threw 
his  old  clothes  away,  and  one  of  the  officers  gave  him  a 
fine  new  suit.     This  delighted  him  greatly. 

That  evening  he  dined  with  Colonel  Clark  and  his 
officers  in  great  state.  After  the  dinner  he  had  a  long 
talk  with  the  American  commander,  in  which  he  gave 
his  new  friend  the  news  from  Detroit.      In  his  zeal  for 


lOO  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

the  American  cause  he  offered  to  go  there  at  once  and 
get  either  a  scalp  or  a  prisoner.  He  meant  in  this  way 
to  show  his  good  will  toward  his  white  brothers. 

"I  do  not  want  the  Indians  to  fight  for  me,"  said 
Colonel  Clark.  "I  wish  them  only  to  look  on.  The 
Long  Knives  do  their  own  fighting." 

Big  Gate  went  away  soon  after  this,  and  as  he  left 
town  some  of  the  officers  saluted  him  with  pistol  shots. 
This  pleased  him  very  much,  and  he  departed  much 
impressed  by  the  power  and  the  politeness  of  the  Ivong 
Knives.  He  soon  had  an  opportunity  to  show  his 
friendship  for  them.  On  his  way  home  he  fell  in  with 
a  party  of  traders.  Thinking  to  please  the  Indians, 
these  men  told  them  that  they  were  English.  To  their 
astonishment  Big  Gate  said  : 

*'  I  am  now  a  captain  of  the  Long  Knives.  I  shall 
take  you  back  to  Cahokia  as  my  prisoners." 

* '  Now  that  we  know  you  to  be  friends, ' '  said  one  of 
the  traders,  "we  will  tell  you  the  truth.  We  are  run- 
ning away  from  the  English  to  join  the  Long  Knives." 

"I  do  not  believe  you,"  answered  the  chief.  "I 
shall  keep  you  prisoners." 

The  unfortunate  traders  were  bound,  and  forced  to  go 
with  the  Indians.  A  party  of  Americans,  however,  soon 
came  by  on  their  way  to  Cahokia.  These  men  took 
charge  of  the  prisoners,  promising  to  deliver  them  safely 
into  Clark's  hands.  This  they  did,  but  we  are  not  told 
whether  they  proved  to  be  friends  or  foes. 


VINCENNES.  lOI 

Colonel  Clark  had  now  concluded  peace  with  most  of 
the  tribes  within  reach.  Many  came  from  long  dis- 
tances to  declare  their  friendship.  Indian  promises, 
however,  were  easily  broken,  and  Clark  was  still 
anxious  and  troubled. 


VI .  — ViNCENNES. 

As  winter  approached  Colonel  Clark  became  even 
more  disturbed  than  he  had  been  during  the  summer 
and  early  autumn.  No  news  had  come  from  Virginia, 
and  this  made  him  less  and  less  hopeful  of  reinforcement. 
He  had  been  receiving  a  letter  from  Vincennes  every 
fortnight,  and  now  even  this  failed  to  arrive.  In  great 
anxiety  he  sent  out  scouts.  They  did  not  return.  For 
a  time  he  waited  in  suspense;  then  he  set  out  from 
Kaskaskia  for  Cahokia,  that  he  might  counsel  with 
Captain  Bowman. 

On  the  way  footmarks  of  seven  or  eight  men  were  dis- 
covered, but  Clark  thought  little  of  the  circumstance. 
He  went  on  to  Prairie  du  Rocher,  twelve  miles  from 
Kaskaskia,  where  he  expected  to  remain  over  night. 
There  he  found  a  dance  in  progress,  and  both  he  and  his 
men  joined  in  the  festivity.  In  the  midst  of  it  a  mes- 
senger arrived  with  news  for  Colonel  Clark. 

"  Eight  hundred  white  men  and  Indians  are  within  a 
few  miles  of  Kaskaskia  !  "  he  declared.  "  They  intend 
to  attack  the  fort  to-night  !  " 


102  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

The  scene  of  gayety  was  at  once  changed  to  one  of 
the  wildest  excitement  and  alarm.  The  French  well 
knew  that  if  Kaskaskia  was  taken,  Prairie  du  Rocher  and 
Cahokia  would  also  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 
They  feared  that,  in  that  case,  they  would  be  severely 
punished  for  having  gone  over  to  the  American  side. 

Some  of  Clark's  friends  urged  him  to  seek  safety 
across  the  Mississippi  among  the  Spaniards.  He 
laughed  at  the  very  thought,  and  began  to  prepare  to  go 
back  to  Kaskaskia.  He  ordered  his  men  to  dress  like 
hunters,  that  they  might  mingle  unrecognized  with 
the  English  and  Indians,  who  would  probably  be 
attacking  the  fort  when  they  arrived.  He  hoped  that 
he  and  his  men,  so  disguised,  might  find  some  way  to 
get  into  the  fort.  He  prepared  a  message  for  Captain 
Bowman  which  instructed  him  to  get  together  all  the 
men  he  could  and  come  at  once  from  Cahokia  to 
Kaskaskia. 

"  Take  the  best  horse  in  town  !"  said  Colonel  Clark 
to  the  man  chosen  to  carry  this  message.  "  Ride  until 
it  can  go  no  further,  then  make  the  rest  of  the  way  on 
foot!" 

He  and  his  men  set  out  in  hot  haste  for  the  town  they 
had  so  lately  left.  On  reaching  it  they  found  that  no 
enemy  had  yet  appeared.  The  fort  had  been  care- 
fully prepared  for  an  attack,  but  Clark  decided  that 
more  provisions  were  necessary.  The  French  citizens 
were  afraid  to  supply  him,  fearing  punishment  if  the 


VINCENNES. 


103 


English,  after  taking  the  town,  should  learn  that  they 
had  helped  provision  the  fort.  There  was  no  time  for 
the  discussion  of  this  matter.  Clark  acted  with  a 
soldier's  promptness.  He  sent  out  word  that  he  was 
going  to  destroy  all  provisions  and  stores  in  the  town,  to 
keep  them  from  falling  into  the  enemy's  hands.  In 
proof  of  his  words  he  set  fire  to  a  Darn  full  of  grain, 
which  was  near  the  fort.  The  citizens  then  made  haste 
to  bring  in  all  the  supplies  that  were  wanted. 

Clark  did  not  venture  to  ask  them  to  fight  with  him 
against  the  English,  for  he  was  sure  they  would  be 
afraid  to  do  so.  He  had  to  rely  on  his  own  men,  and 
those  of  Captain  Bowman,  who  arrived  the  next  day. 

The  whole  alarm,  however,  proved  to  be  a  false  one. 
It  was  found  that  the  army  of  eight  hundred  English 
and  Indians  was  only  a  small  party  sent  out  to  capture 
Colonel  Clark,  and  that  they  had  gone  away.  The 
leaders  of  the  party  had  given  some  negroes,  who  were 
working  on  the  river  bank,  the  message  which  reached 
Clark  at  Prairie  du  Rocher.  They  knew  that  he  would 
at  once  prepare  for  defense,  and  that  they,  in  the  mean- 
time, could  get  safely  away. 

Soon  after  this  another  startling  message  was  brought 
to  Kaskaskia.  A  man  by  the  name  of  Vigo,  just  arrived 
from  Vincennes,  told  Clark  that  General  Hamilton  of 
Detroit,  with  a  party  of  regulars,  volunteers,  and 
Indians  to  the  number  of  several  hundred,  had  captured 
Vincennes;  that  he   had  sent  some  of    his  soldiers   to 


104  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

patrol  the  Ohio  River,  disbanded  others,  and  settled 
down  in  Fort  Sackville  for  the  winter.  It  was  Hamil- 
ton's intention  to  drive  Clark  out  of  Illinois  in  the 
spring,  and  then  to  fall  on  the  Kentucky  settlements. 

"If  I  don't  take  Hamilton,  he  will  take  me!"  said 
Colonel  Clark,  who,  in  spite  of  his  usual  brave  cheerful- 
ness, knew  that  his  situation  was  desperate. 

"We  must  attack  at  once,"  said  he.  "If  we  are  suc- 
cessful both  Illinois  and  Kentucky  will  be  saved.  If 
we  fail  we  shall  be  no  worse  off  than  we  are  now." 

Preparations  for  war  immediately  began.  The  whole 
IlHnois  country  was  aroused ;  every  one  gave  what  help 
he  could ;  volunteers  were  much  praised  and  encouraged. 
A  large  Mississippi  River  boat  was  purchased,  loaded 
with  stores  and  cannon,  and  manned  by  forty-five 
soldiers  under  Captain  John  Rogers.  The  Willing,  as 
she  was  called,  was  to  go  to  a  point  a  few  miles  below 
Vincennes  and  wait  there  for  the  land  forces  under 
Colonel  Clark.  On  the  fourth  of  February,  she  set  off 
on  her  voyage  down  the  river. 

In  the  meantime  a  company  of  volunteers  arrived 
from  Cahokia,  and  another  had  been  formed  in  Kas- 
kaskia.  By  the  fifth  all  was  in  readiness;  good  Father 
Gibault,  ever  the  friend  of  the  Americans,  addressed 
the  troops  and  gave  them  his  blessing.  There  were 
upwards  of  a  hundred  and  seventy  men  in  the  Httle 
army  which  set  out  from  Kaskaskia  followed  by  the 
prayers  and  well-wishes  of  those  who  remained  behind. 


THROUGH  THE   DROWNED  LANDS.  IO5 


VII. — Through  the  "Drowned  Lands." 

Through  rain,  mud,  and  pools  of  standing  water 
George  Rogers  Clark's  gallant  followers  started  to  trav- 
erse what  is  now  the  state  of  Ilhnois.^  The  first  stream 
was  crossed  by  means  of  trees  felled  for  the  purpose. 
Beyond  this  river  the  road  stretched  away  over  a  partly 
submerged  plain.  Clark  was  anxious  to  keep  up  the 
spirits  and  courage  of  his  men,  and,  with  that  end  in 
view,  planned  that  the  evenings  should  be  times  of 
feasting  and  merry-making.  Each  day  one  company 
was  supplied  with  horses,  and  given  permission  to  hunt 
along  the  line  of  march.  The  men  at  night  prepared 
the  game  they  were  able  to  secure,  and  invited  their 
comrades  to  share  it  with  them.  Many  bufifaloes,  some 
deer,  and  water-fowl,  in  this  way  supplemented  the  pro- 
visions carried  by  the  packhorses. 

This  diversion  helped  the  men  along  their  toilsome 
way  until  they  reached  the  Little  Wabash  River.  Clark 
acted  as  if  he  were  enjoying'  himself,  and  indeed  he 
was  filled  with  satisfaction  as  he  realized  that  the 
farther  they  advanced  the  more  impossible  it  became  to 
retreat.  Between  the  Little  Wabash  and  the  next  river 
all  the  country  was  under  water.  Instead  of  two  dis- 
tinct streams,  a  large  body  of  water,  five  miles  in  width, 
was    to    be    crossed.      Although    much    troubled    by    this 

^  For  the  route  across  Illinois,  see  map,  p.  85. 


I06  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

difficulty,  Clark  laughed  at  it  among  his  men,  and  at 
once  set  them  to  work  building  a  canoe.  As  soon  as  it 
was  completed  a  number  of  soldiers  were  sent  in  it  to  find 
a  camping  place  on  the  farther  side.  They  found  a  bit 
of  ground,  about  half  an  acre  in  extent,  toward  which 
the  army  proceeded  to  move.  The  channel  of  the  first 
river  was  about  thirty  yards  wide  and  very  deep.  By 
means  of  the  canoe  a  scafibld  was  built  on  the  farther 
bank,  to  which  the  baggage  was  ferried.  The  horses 
swam  across  and  were  reloaded,  while  the  men  were 
brought  over  in  the  boat. 

They  marched  through  the  water  which  covered  the 
land  between  the  two  rivers,  being  sometimes  submerged 
to  their  armpits.  The  few  who  were  weak  or  ailing 
were  put  into  the  canoe.  The  second  river  was  crossed 
as  the  first  had  been,  and  the  piece  of  rising  ground 
reached  on  which  they  were  to  encamp.  In  spite  of 
these  hardships  the  soldiers  were  in  great  spirits,  and 
indulged  in  much  laughing  and  joking  at  one  another's 
expense. 

During  the  day  a  boy,  whom  Clark  afterwards  called 
"a  little  antic  drummer,"  made  great  fun  for  the  others 
by  floating  on  his  drum.  The  men  were  sure  now  that 
nothing  could  stop  them.  They  felt  ready  for  any 
hardship  or  difficulty  which  might  present  itself  and 
talked  together  of  marching  on  to  Detroit  as  soon  as 
they  had  taken  Vincennes. 

All  this  gave  their  leader  great  satisfaction,  though 


THROUGH    THE    "DROWNED    LANDS."  IO7 

he  was  far  from  sharing  their  confidence  of  easy  victory. 
On  and  on  he  led  his  little  band,  through  rain,  mud, 
and  water.  Hunting  was  no  longer  possible,  and  pro- 
visions began  to  run  short.  Many  streams  and  creeks 
had  to  be  crossed,  some  of  them  very  deep,  which  of 
course  meant  much  hard  work  for  the  soldiers.  On  and 
on  they  marched,  the  country  becoming  worse  as  they 
approached  the  Wabash. 

During  a  halt  Captain  Kennedy  and  three  men  were 
sent  out  in  the  canoe  with  orders  to  search  for  and  cap- 
ture boats.  This  was  on  the  seventeenth  of  February. 
All  day  the  army  waded  through  water,  and  it  was 
eight  o'clock  at  night  before  a  spot  was  found  on  which 
a  camp  could  be  made.  The  place  at  last  selected  was 
far  from  dry,  as  it  was  a  piece  of  ground  "  from  which 
the  water  was  falling."  Here  the  men  spent  a  miser- 
able night,  cold,  wet,  and  hungry.  In  the  morning 
Kennedy  returned,  having  met  with  no  success  in  his 
quest  for  boats. 

The  army  was  now  near  enough  to  Vincennes  to  hear 
the  sunrise  gun  from  the  fort.  By  two  o'clock  that 
afternoon  they  found  themselves  on  the  bank  of  the 
Wabash  River,  but  unable  to  cross.  Rafts  were  built 
and  men  again  sent  out  to  seek  for  boats.  They  spent 
a  day  and  a  night  in  the  water,  finding  neither  boats 
nor  dry  land. 

The  situation  was  now  desperate,  as  the  men  were 
almost  starving.     They  had  had  nothing  to  eat  for  two 


I08  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK« 

days,  and  in  consequence  became  much  cast  down  and 
discouraged.  Some  of  the  volunteers  even  began  to 
talk  of  going  back.  Clark  laughed  at  them,  and  told 
them  to  go  out  and  try  to  find  a  deer.  They  obeyed  his 
order,  and  succeeded  in  killing  one,  to  the  great  delight 
of  their  hungry  comrades.  Clark  set  other  men  to 
making  canoes.  L^ater  a  boat  containing  five  French- 
men was  captured  as  it  came  down  the  river.  These 
men  told  Clark  that  the  British  in  Vincennes  as  yet 
knew  nothing  of  his  approach. 

Early  on  the  twenty-first  the  work  of  ferrying  the 
men  across  to  a  little  hill  was  begun.  Beyond  this  hill 
was  another  stretch  of  flooded  prairie.  Once  there, 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  go  on;  and  on  they  went, 
sometimes  in  water  up  to  their  necks.  They  had  hoped 
to  reach  Vincennes  that  night,  but  found  it  impossible, 
being  obliged  to  halt  on  the  first  available  piece  of 
rising  ground.  They  had  traveled  through  the  water, 
and  in  the  rain,  without  food,  all  day,  but  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  twenty-second  again  plunged  into  the  flood 
on  the  forward  march.  They  advanced  only  three 
miles  during  the  whole  day.  Once  more  they  encamped, 
and  once  more  marched  on  through  the  "  drowned 
lands."  At  one  o'clock,  on  the  twenty-third,  they  found 
themselves  in  sight  of  Vincennes. 

At  one  stage  of  their  terrible  journey,  the  water 
became  deeper  and  deeper  as  they  went  on.  Clark 
passed  back  word  that  it  was  growing  shallower,  and 


THROUGH    THE    ''DROWNED    LANDS. 


109 


the  men  pressed  forward.  When  almost  in  despair  him- 
self it  really  became  less  deep,  and  he  sent  back  a  call 
that  woods  were  just  ahead.  This  encouraged  the  men 
to  fresh  exertions,  as  they  hoped  to  find  solid  ground 
under  their  feet  when  once  among  the  trees.  Here  also 
the  ground  was  under  water,  but  progress  became 
easier,  as  they  could  help  themselves  along  by  trees, 
logs,  and  bushes. 

At  one  place,  after  a  long  struggle  through  water 
deeper  than  usual,  the  men  were  so  exhausted  on  reach- 
ing the  rising  ground  that  many  of  them  fell  at  the 
water's  edge,  and  had  to  be  dragged  to  places  of  safety. 
Great  fires  were  built,  but  some  soldiers  could  only  be 
revived  by  being  walked  briskly  up  and  down  between 
two  stronger  ones.  It  was  here  that  a  canoe,  full  of 
corn,  tallow,  and  buffalo  meat,  in  charge  of  some  squaws, 
was  captured.  From  these  supplies  great  kettles  of 
soup  were  made  for  the  famished  men. 

Clark  at  one  time  felt  obliged  to  use  another  and  a 
sterner  method  of  urging  his  men  forward  than  any  of 
those  that  have  been  mentioned.  Captain  Bowman, 
with  twenty-five  picked  men,  was  ordered  to  keep  in  the 
rear  and  shoot  any  man  who  should  attempt  to  desert. 
When  the  soldiers  heard  this  order  given  they  cheered 
their  commander,  and  said  among  themselves  that  he 
was  doing  right. 

In  spite  of  all  these  hardships,  as  the  army  paused  on 
the  elevation  from  which  they  could  see  Fort  Sackville, 


no  GEORGE    ROGERS    CLARK. 

their  courage  revived,  so  that  they  were  quite  ready  to 
march  on  that  night  and  capture  the  town  they  had 
toiled  so  hard  to  reach. 


VIII. — The  Capture  of  Fort  Sackville. 

The  country  between  the  hill,  where  the  army  had 
halted,  and  the  town  of  Vincennes,  was  rolling  prairie. 
The  lowest  ground  was  covered  with  pools  of  water, 
which  were  ahve  with  ducks.  Several  hunters  on 
horseback  could  be  seen,  and  Colonel  Clark  sent  a  party 
of  his  young  volunteers  in  pursuit  of  them.  One  was 
captured  and  brought  before  the  American  commander, 
who  questioned  him  closely.  The  prisoner  said  that  the 
English  had  on  that  day  completed  the  repairs  on  the 
fort,  and  that  there  were  many  Indians  in  town.  He 
thought  that  counting  both  white  men  and  red  there 
were  upwards  of  six  hundred  men  in  Vincennes. 

Clark  had  hoped  to  add  The  Willing' s  crew  of  fifty 
to  his  own  one  hundred  and  seventy  men,  but  as  yet 
nothing  had  been  heard  of  her.  He  was  much  encour- 
aged by  the  fact  that  the  French  citizens  wished  the 
Americans  well.  He  was  also  glad  to  learn  that  the 
Indian  chief,  Tobacco's  Son,  had,  only  a  few  days 
before,  declared  himself  the  friend  of  the  Long  Knives, 
and  this  too  in  council  with  the  British. 

Clark  knew  that  the  presence  of  his  army  must  soon 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  FORT  SACKVILLE. 


Ill 


be  discovered,  and  so  he  sent  a  letter  to  the  townspeople, 
tellmg  them  that  he  meant  to  take  the  fort  that  night; 
that  all  who  were  friends  of  the  English  must  join  them 
in  the  fort,  or  take  their  chances  outside;  that  all  who 
favored  the  Americans  must  prove  it  by  keeping  indoors. 
This  letter  was  so  worded  as  to  lead  the  people  to  beHeve 


-^  ')3 


"?; 


FORT    SACKVILLE. 


that  the  army  was  from  Kentucky.  Messages  were  sent 
to  certain  citizens  in  the  names  of  well-known  Ken- 
tucky men.  The  soldiers  were  instructed  to  talk  as  if 
they  numbered  at  least  a  thousand. 

As  the  bearer  of  the  letter  entered  Vincennes,  Clark 
and  his  officers  watched  him  through  their  field  glasses. 
Although  there  was  soon  a  great  stir  in  the  town,  the 


113  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

fort  remained  quiet.  Clark  concluded  that  the  English 
knew  of  his  approach  and  were  prepared  for  defense* 
This,  however,  was  not  the  case.  They  were  celebrat- 
ing the  completion  of  the  repairs,  with  feasting  and 
games,  and  w^ere  ignorant  of  the  presence  of  an  enemy. 

Colonel  Clark  spoke  to  his  men  of  the  great  impor- 
tance of  obeying  orders  implicitly.  The  men  responded 
with  cheers,  and  made  ready  to  follow  their  brave  com- 
mander wherever  he  should  lead  them.  As  the  little 
army  moved  slowly  forward  it  marched,  countermarched, 
and  displayed  banners  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it  appear 
from  a  distance  that  many  hundred  men  were  advancing. 
Keeping  under  the  hillocks,  Clark  delayed  bringing  his 
men  close  to  the  town  until  after  dark. 

On  arriving.  Lieutenant  Bailey  was  ordered  to  take 
fourteen  men  and  open  fire  on  the  fort,  while  the  rest 
took  possession  of  the  town.  When  the  Americans 
began  to  fire,  the  British  thought  nothing  of  it,  suppos- 
ing that  some  of  the  Indians  were  amusing  themselves. 
When  one  of  their  men  was  shot  through  a  loophole 
they  awoke  to  the  fact  that  a  more  formidable  enemy 
was  at  their  gates.  Games,  pipes,  and  cards  were  tossed 
aside,  the  drums  beat  the  alarm,  and  the  soldiers  made 
ready  to  defend  the  fort.  The  officers  had  heard  that  a 
party  of  men  was  approaching  Vincennes,  and  Captain 
Lamothe  had  been  sent  out  to  reconnoiter,  but  they  had 
no  idea  that  it  was  George  Rogers  Clark  and  his  army. 

The  battle  soon  began  in  earnest,  all  of  Clark's  men, 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  FORT  SACKVILLE.        II3 

except  a  reserve  of  fifty,  taking  part.  Breastworks  were 
built  near  the  fort,  behind  which  the  soldiers  so  con- 
cealed themselves  that  the  British  could  form  no  idea 
of  their  numbers.  At  the  corners  of  Fort  Sackville 
were  blockhouses,  in  each  of  which  was  a  cannon,  which 
did  little  harm  to  Clark's  men,  but  damaged  some  of 
the  houses  near  by.  These  guns  were  quickly  rendered 
useless  by  the  excellent  marksmanship  of  the  backwoods 
soldiers.  No  sooner  were  the  openings  made  for  the 
cannon,  than  such  a  volley  of  bullets  poured  in  that 
the  British  could  not  stand  to  their  guns.  Seven  or 
eight  gunners  were  shot  down  at  their  posts.  When 
the  openings  were  closed  the  Americans  showered 
taunts  and  abuse  on  their  enemies,  with  the  purpose  of 
inducing  them  to  fire  again.  In  this  they  were  often 
successful,  but  after  a  time  the  use  of  the  cannon  had  to 
be  discontinued. 

The  American  breastworks  were  within  thirty  yards 
of  the  fort.  Had  the  English  been  able  to  use  their 
cannon  these  must  have  been  demolished,  and  many 
soldiers  killed.  Keeping  well  under  cover,  according 
to  Clark's  orders,  the  riflemen  not  only  silenced  the  can- 
non, but  shot  into  the  loopholes  of  the  fort  the  moment 
a  shadow  darkened  one  of  them.  Clark  kept  his  men 
firing  and  shouting  at  such  a  rate  that  the  English 
thought  his  force  a  great  deal  larger  than  it  was.  He 
ordered  a  detachment  to  begin  work  on  a  mine,  with  a 
view  to  blowing  up  the  fort.     He  felt  that  he  had  uo 


114  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

time  to  lose,  for  should  the  Indians  decide  to  unite  with 
the  British  he  knew  he  would  be  overpowered. 

Captain  Lamothe,  the  British  officer  who  had  been 
sent  out  on  the  scouting  expedition,  was  now  very 
anxious  to  join  his  comrades  inside  the  fort.  For  some 
time  he  hovered  about,  seeking  a  chance  to  enter,  but 
finding  none.  When  Clark  discovered  this,  he  concluded 
to  let  him  get  in,  for  fear  he  might  stir  up  the  Indians 
against  him.  He  withdrew  his  men  to  some  little  dis- 
tance, ordering  them  not  to  fire  on  Lamothe,  should  he 
attempt  to  get  in.  As  he  had  foreseen,  the  British  officer 
at  once  made  a  dash  for  his  friends.  He  and  his  men 
were  eagerly  assisted  by  those  within  the  fort,  and  all 
were  safely  admitted,  amid  such  taunts  and  jeers  from 
the  Americans  as  must  have  told  them  that  they  had 
been  purposely  allowed  to  enter.  This  made  the  English 
surer  than  ever  that  Clark  had  a  large  force,  for  as 
soon  as  these  men  were  safely  inside,  the  Americans 
again  opened  fire. 

It  was  not  long  before  Hamilton  sent  word  to  Clark  that 
he  wished  a  three-days'  truce,  and  asked  the  American 
commander  to  meet  him  at  the  gate  of  the  fort.  Clark 
replied  that  he  would  agree  to  nothing  but  surrender, 
although  he  was  willing  to  meet  General  Hamilton, 
with  Captain  Helm,  in  the  church.  This  was  arranged, 
and  the  two  commanders  stood  face  to  face.  Captain 
Helm,  the  American  prisoner.  Major  Hay,  an  English 
officer,  and  Captain  Bowman  were  also  present. 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  FORT  SACKVILLE.        II5 

Hamilton  asked  that  his  troops  be  permitted  to  go  to 
Pensacola  in  case  of  surrender.  Clark  answered  that 
this  could  not  be  allowed;  that  the  British  troops  had 
fouofht  bravely  and  would  not  be  worse  treated  in  con- 
sequence;  that  General  Hamilton  must  know,  that,  as 
the  fort  would  surely  be  taken,  any  further  fighting 
would  be  murder;  that  the  American  soldiers  were  very 
eager  to  storm  the  fort  and  could  hardly  be  restrained; 
that  if  they  once  got  in,  even  he,  himself,  would  not 
be  able  to  save  a  single  man. 

This  was  far  from  being  satisfactory  to  General 
Hamilton,  and  the  two  commanders  were  about  to  part 
without  coming  to  any  agreement,  when  Clark  said, 

*' Firing  will  not  begin,  Your  Excellency,  until  after 
the  drums  give  the  alarm.' ^ 

' '  Why  do  you  refuse  all  terms  but  unconditional  sur- 
render?" asked  Hamilton. 

"Because,"  said  Clark  frankly,  "there  are  among 
your  officers  some  of  those  who  set  the  Indians  to  mur- 
dering our  friends  and  relations  on  the  Kentucky  border. 
I  wish  to  put  those  men  to  death  for  the  wrong  they 
have  done.     They  are  Indian  partisans." 

"  Pray ,  sir, "  broke  in  Major  Hay,  "who  is  it  that 
you  call  an  Indian  partisan?  " 

''Sir,"  replied  Colonel  Clark,  ''I  take  Major  Hay  to 
be  one  of  the  principals." 

At  this  Hay  turned  deadly  pale,  and  trembled  so  that 
Clark  knew  he  had  judged  rightly;  Hamilton  seemed 


Il6  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

greatly  disturbed.  Once  more  terms  of  surrender  were 
discussed,  and  Hamilton  felt  forced  to  give  way.  An 
official  paper  was  made  out  and  signed  as  follows: 

1.  Lieutenant-Governor  Hamilton  engages  to  deliver 
up  to  Colonel  Clark  Fort  Sackville,  as  it  is  at  present, 
with  all  stores,  etc. 

2.  The  garrison  are  to  deliver  themselves  as  prisoners 
of  war  and  march  out,  with  arms,  accoutrements,  etc. 

3.  The  garrison  to  be  delivered  up  at  ten  o'clock 
to-morrow. 

4.  Three  days  to  be  allowed  the  garrison  to  settle 
their  accounts  with  the  inhabitants  and  traders  of  the 
place. 

5.  The  officers  of  the  garrison  to  be  allowed  their 
necessary  baggage,  etc. 

Signed  at  Fort  Vincent  (Vincennes),  24th  February, 

1779. 
Agreed  for  the  following  reasons:  The  remoteness 
from  succor,  the  state  and  quantity  of  provisions,  etc., 
unanimity  of  officers  and  men  in  its  expediency,  the 
honorable  terms  allowed,  and,  lastly,  the  confidence  in 
a  generous  enemy. 

Signed,         Henry  Hamilton, 
Lieutenant-Governor  and  Superintendent. 

While  terms  of  surrender  were  being  discussed,  a  party 
of  twenty  Indians,  who  had  just  returned  from  a  raid  on 
the  Kentucky  settlements,  was  seen  approaching  the 
town.  An  American  captain,  John  Williams,  and  som.e 
of  his  men,  went  out  to  meet  them.  They  uttered  the 
cry  of   successful   warriors,  and  Captain  Williams  an- 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  FORT  SACKVILLE.        II7 

swered  their  signs.  The  Indians  fired  a  salute,  and 
Williams's  men  did  the  same.  When  the  two  parties 
were  within  a  short  distance  of  each  other  the  chief 
stopped;  Williams  quickly  seized  him,  and  the  Indians 
turned  and  ran,  the  white  men  in  pursuit.  A  number 
of  savages  were  killed  outright,  others  were  taken  pris- 
oners, and  later  on  killed  under  the  very  walls  of  the 
fort.  This  was  done  to  show  the  other  Indians  how 
powerless  the  English  were  to  protect  them. 

When  Clark  saw  the  inside  of  the  fort,  with  its  plen- 
tiful stores,  he  was  much  surprised  that  he  had  won  so 
easy  a  victory.  He  decided  to  release  some  of  his 
prisoners,  who  were  volunteers  from  Detroit,  as  he  had 
more  on  his  hands  than  he  could  well  care  for.  He 
told  these  young  men  that  he  knew  they  had  been  led 
away  by  their  love  of  adventure;  that  instead  of  being 
sent  as  prisoners  to  Virginia  they  could  go  back  to 
Detroit  and  tell  their  friends  what  kind  of  conquerors 
the  Americans  were.  The  young  volunteers  were  only 
too  glad  to  do  this,  and  afterwards  made  many  friends 
for  the  American  cause  among  the  citizens  of  Detroit. 

Word  came  that  boats  loaded  with  stores  for  Fort 
Sackville  were  on  their  way  from  Detroit,  and  Captain 
Helm  was  sent  out  to  intercept  them.  This  he  was  for- 
tunately able  to  do,  and  a  valuable  prize  was  thus 
secured.  The  provisions  were  taken  for  public  use,  and 
the  goods  divided  among  the  soldiers. 

Captain  Rogers,  of  The    Willing,   soon  joined   Clark 


ri8  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

at  Vincennes,  greatly  regretting  that  he  had  arrived  too 
late  to  take  part  in  the  attack.  He  and  Captain  Williams 
were  later  sent  to  Virginia  in  charge  of  Hamilton,  his 
ofiBcers,  and  some  men.  Hamilton  was  treated  with 
great  severity  in  Virginia  prisons,  but  after  a  time  was 
released  and  exchanged. 


IX. — The  Delaware  Indians. 

After  his  victory  Colonel  Clark  sent  no  message  to 
the  Indians,  but  waited  to  see  what  effect  the  news  would 
have  upon  them.  They  very  soon  began  to  flock  into 
Vincennes  for  the  purpose  of  making  peace.  Clark  told 
them  he  was  glad  to  take  their  promises,  but  that  if  these 
promises  were  ever  broken  the  Long  Knives  would  not 
trust  the  Indians  again.  After  much  ceremony,  and 
many  speeches,  belts  were  exchanged,  peace  pipes 
smoked,  and  a  number  of  treaties  signed.  Lieutenant 
Richard  Brashear  was  left  in  charge  of  Fort  Sackville, 
with  one  hundred  men.  Captain  Helm  was  made  com- 
mandant of  the  town,  and  put  in  charge  of  Indian 
affairs. 

On  the  twentieth  of  March,  Clark,  and  the  rest  of  his 
men,  embarked  on  The  Willing  for  Kaskaskia.  On 
their  way  up  the  Mississippi  they  saw  several  new 
Indian  camps.  They  learned,  when  they  reached  Kas- 
kaskia, that  some  Delaware  Indians  had  been  in  town  a 


THE    DELAWARE    INDIANS.  II9 

few  days  before  behaving  very  badly,  some  of  them  even 
going  so  far  as  to  flash  their  guns  at  white  women. 
Some  passing  soldiers  had  come  to  the  rescue,  and 
driven  the  Indians  away. 

Later  on,  word  came  from  Captain  Helm  that  a  party 
of  traders  had  been  killed  by  Delavvares  near  Vincennes. 
Clark  at  once  sent  out  a  company  to  find  their  camps 
and  villages.  He  distrusted  these  savages,  and  felt  that 
he  ought  to  destroy  them  if  he  could.  They  had,  at  one 
time,  made  a  sort  of  peace  treaty  with  the  Americans, 
but  he  knew  that  they  really  wanted  war.  He  was 
glad  that  he  now  had  the  opportunity  of  showing  the 
other  tribes  what  the  Long  Knives  would  do  with  those 
who  dared  to  make  war  against  them. 

He  sent  orders  to  the  soldiers  at  Vincennes  to  attack 
the  Delawares  at  once;  to  kill  the  men,  but  spare  the 
women  and  children.  Accordingly  their  camps  were  de- 
stroyed, many  Indians  killed,  and  many  taken  prisoners. 
The  Delawares  then  asked  for  peace,  but  were  told  that 
they  dare  not  lay  down  the  hatchet  without  permission 
from  Colonel  Clark;  but  that  a  message  would  be  sent 
for  them  to  Kaskaskia.  Clark  sent  back  word  that  he 
would  not  grant  peace;  that  he  never  trusted  those  who 
once  broke  faith;  but  that  if  they  could  get  other  tribes 
to  be  their  security  he  would  let  them  alone. 

The  Delawares  then  called  a  council,  at  which  Clark's 
answer  was  made  public.  The  Piankeshaws  promised 
to  be  security  for  the  good   faith   and  conduct  of  the 


I20  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

Delawares.      Tobacco's  Son  made  a  speech,  in  which  he 
blamed  them  severely. 

"I  gave  you  permission  to  settle  in  this  country," 
said  he,  "but  not  to  kill  my  friends.  If  you  offend 
again,  I,  myself,  will  punish  you.  I  swear  it  by  the 
Sacred  Bow." 

This  bow  was  then  brought  out.  It  was  a  wonderful 
affair,  decorated  with  feathers,  eagles'  tails,  a  pipe  of 
peace,  and  many  trinkets.  At  one  end  was  a  spear,  six 
inches  long,  which  had  been  dipped  in  blood.  This 
bow  could  only  be  handled  by  the  greatest  chiefs.  It 
made  a  profound  impression  on  the  frightened  Dela- 
wares, who  were  now  only  too  glad  to  declare  themselves 
at  peace  with  the  Long  Knives. 


X. — Back  in  Kentucky. 

The  first  messenger  sent  to  Virginia,  with  news  of 
the  victory  at  Vincennes,  was  killed  on  the  way;  but 
when  the  Virginians  finally  learned  what  Clark  had  done 
there  was  great  rejoicing.  The  brave  soldiers,  and  their 
braver  commander,  were  praised  on  every  side.  The 
assembly  presented  Colonel  Clark  with  a  fine  sword,  in 
recognition  of  his  "distinguished  services." 

But  the  troops  promised  for  an  expedition  against 
Detroit  were  not  sent;  Clark  therefore  decided  to  go 
back  to  Kentucky,  making  his  way  by  the  river  to  the 


BACK    IN    KENTUCKY.  121 

Falls  of  the  Ohio.  He  found  that  many  new  settlers 
had  come  to  Kentucky,  and  this  caused  him  to  hope  that 
he  might  soon  so  increase  his  army  as  to  be  able  to 
march  against  the  British.  He  made  a  careful  plan  for 
the  laying  in  of  large  stores  of  jerked  meat  for  army 
supplies,  but  his  hunters  were  so  harassed  by  the  Indians 
that  nothing  came  of  it. 

Corn  Island  had  been  abandoned,  and  a  fort  built  on 
the  Kentucky  side  of  the  river.  Clark  set  himself  at 
work  strengthening  this  fort  and  preparing  it  for  defense. 
This  was  really  the  foundation  of  the  city  of  Louisville. 
Clark  drew  a  plan  for  a  magnificent  city,  laying  out 
many  parks  and  public  grounds.  If  these  ideas  had 
been  carried  out  Louisville  would  now  be  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  cities  in  the  country;  but  as  the  town 
around  the  fort  grew  larger  much  of  the  public  land 
was  sold.  Colonel  Clark  also  drew  up  maps  and  plans 
for  a  city  to  be  built  opposite  Louisville,  which  he 
hoped  would  be  called  Clarksville. 

Clark  now  became  anxious  to  have  a  fort  built  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Ohio.  This,  he  felt,  would  strengthen 
the  American  claim  to  the  newly  conquered  Illinois 
country.  He  hoped  also  to  establish  other  forts  to  the 
north,  which  would  keep  the  Indians  farther  away  from 
Kentucky. 

In  1780  he  went,  with  a  small  force,  to  a  place  on  the 
Mississippi  called  Iron  Banks,  four  or  five  miles  below 
the  mouth  of  the  Ohio  River.     Here  he  built  several 


122  GEORGE    ROGERS    CLARK. 

blockhouses,  and  a  fort  called  Fort  Jefferson.  Soon 
after  its  completion  it  was  besieged  by  one  thousand 
Choctaw  and  Cherokee  Indians.  Within  were  only 
thirty  men,  some  of  whom  were  sick ;  water  was  scarce, 
and,  at  one  time,  the  only  food  was  unripe  pumpkins. 
The  men  had  no  thought  of  surrender,  however,  and 
finally  succeeded  in  driving  off  their  foes. 

The  Indians  were  entrapped  into  a  certain  position, 
where  a  cannon,  loaded  with  rifle  and  musket  balls, 
could  be  brought  to  bear  on  them.  It  was  fired  into 
their  ranks,  when  they  were  crowded  together,  with 
deadly  effect.  They  drew  off  in  haste,  and  made  no 
more  assaults;  and  after  hovering  about  the  neighbor- 
hood until  Clark  arrived  with  reinforcements,  they  dis- 
appeared. 

Clark  so  feared  an  expedition  from  Detroit  that  he 
planned  to  avert  it  by  making  the  first  attack  himself. 
With  this  in  view  he  set  out  from  Fort  Jefferson  for  Har- 
rodsburg,  with  only  two  companions.  He  was  undertak- 
ing a  most  dangerous  journey,  for  the  country  between 
the  two  places  was  full  of  hostile  Indians.  Clark  and  his 
men  painted  their  faces  and  dressed  like  savages,  hoping 
in  this  way  to  elude  their  foes.  They  were,  in  conse- 
quence, fired  on  by  some  white  men  who  mistook  them 
for  Indians;  fortunately  no  one  was  hurt.  Living  on 
buffalo  meat  and  game,  and  crossing  the  swollen  streams 
on  rafts  made  of  logs  and  grapevines,  the  travelers 
reached  Harrodsburg  in   safety. 


BACK   IN    KENTUCKY.  1 23 

Clark  began  at  once  to  raise  troops,  for  he  knew  that 
the  situation  was  serious.  Kentucky  was  threatened  by 
the  British,  and  harassed  by  Indians.  News  came  that 
an  expedition  had  really  been  planned  by  the  English 
and  their  savage  allies  against  Kaskaskia  and  Cahokia. 
Then  word  arrived  that  an  army  of  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  men  was  already  on  the  way  south ;  that  American 
traders  had  been  taken  on  the  Mississippi ;  that  workers 
in  the  lead  mines  had  been  made  prisoners. 

These  threatening  and  real  dangers  caused  great 
alarm  in  Kentucky.  Clark  decided  to  attack  his  ene- 
mies, not  only  to  punish  them,  but  to  calm  the  fears  of 
his  frightened  countrymen.  He  gathered  together,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Licking  River,  all  the  able-bodied  men 
in  the  vicinity. 

These  troops  marched  at  once,  one  thousand  strong, 
to  an  Indian  village  north  of  the  Ohio  River,  carrying 
a  cannon  with  them  on  the  back  of  a  pack  horse.  The 
Indians  fled  on  hearing  of  the  approach  of  the  white 
men,  who  burned  the  village  to  the  ground  as  soon  as 
they  reached  it.  They  then  went  on  to  Piqua,  an 
Indian  town  of  well-built  log  houses,  gardens  of  corn 
and  beans,  and  a  strong  blockhouse.  The  white  men 
opened  an  attack,  and  the  Indians  retreated  so  skillfully 
as  to  lose  only  a  few  of  their  number.  The  village  was 
burned  and  the  crops  destroyed.  One  other  Indian 
town  was  burned  before  the  pioneers  turned  towards 
home. 


124  GEORGE    ROGERS    CLARK. 

During  this  time  things  were  going  very  badly  at 
Fort  Jefferson,  as  there  were  but  few  men  in  the  gar- 
rison. One  by  one  these  sickened,  died,  or  deserted;  and 
finally  the  fort  was  abandoned. 


XI. — Lochry's  Defeat. 

Colonel  Clark,  in  1781,  was  still  very  anxious  to 
march  against  Detroit.  He  called  a  council  of  war  at 
the  Falls  of  the  Ohio  to  consider  the  number  of  troops 
needed,  and  how  they  could  be  fed.  He  then  went  to 
Virginia,  hoping  to  get  help  there ;  but  during  his  stay 
the  British,  under  Arnold,  invaded  the  state.  He  laid 
aside  his  own  hopes  and  plans  long  enough  to  help  his 
countrymen  repel  this  invasion. 

Both  Governor  Thomas  Jefferson  and  General  George 
Washington  approved  of  Clark's  plans,  and  promised  to 
do  what  they  could  to  further  them.  They  were  able 
to  do  very  little,  however,  and  he  experienced  great 
difficulty  in  securing  men.  Indeed  there  were,  this 
time,  very  few  who  were  not  already  in  the  continental 
army,  or  desperately  needed  at  home. 

Clark  had  hoped  to  leave  Fort  Pitt  on  June  fifteenth, 
with  two  thousand  men.  He  was  obliged  to  start  down 
the  river  with  only  four  hundred,  but  expecting  other 
troops  to  follow.  One  division  of  these  was  commanded 
by  Colonel  Lochry  of  Pennsylvania,  who  started  in  July 


LOCHRY  S    DEFEAT.  I  25 

to  join  Clark,  but  met  with  many  delays.  Clark,  after 
waiting  for  him  at  Wheeling  five  days  longer  than  he 
had  planned,  was  then  obliged  to  move  on  with  his 
restless  soldiers.  He  left  boats  and  provisions  for 
Lochry,  who  came  the  next  day  and  immediately  fol- 
lowed him  down  the  river.  Lochry  was  again  delayed, 
and,  instead  of  meeting  Clark  at  the  place  decided  on, 
arrived  there  one  day  too  late.  Clark  moved  his  troops 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Kanawha  River,  but  they  were  so 
uneasy  and  dissatisfied  that  he  did  not  dare  remain.  He 
left  a  letter  on  a  pole  for  Lochry,  telling  him  to  come  on 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

Misfortunes  followed  thick  and  fast.  Lochry's  party 
did  not  know  the  channel  of  the  river;  their  supplies 
became  exhausted,  and  they  at  last  lost  all  hope  of 
catching  up  with  Clark.  Captain  Shannon,  with  seven 
men,  was  sent  down  the  river  in  a  fast  boat,  to  overtake 
Clark  and  tell  him  the  plight  of  his  friends.  These 
men  were  captured  by  Indians,  who  read  the  letter  telling 
Clark  of  Lochry's  forlorn  condition. 

The  British,  and  their  Indian  allies,  had  thought 
Clark's  and  Lochry's  parties  were  together,  but  now, 
knowing  them  to  be  miles  apart,  they  at  once  decided  to 
attack  the  weaker  force.  Three  hundred  of  them 
watched  their  opportunity  at  the  mouth  of  the  Great 
Miami  River,  where  they  won  an  easy  victory.  Forty 
Americans  were  killed,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  cap- 
tured. 


126  GEORGE    ROGERS    CLARK. 

Great  was  the  distress  in  Pennsylvania  when  the 
news  of  this  defeat  arrived,  for  Lochry's  expedition  had 
been  made  up  of  some  of  the  best  and  bravest  men  in 
the  state,  and  of  these  there  were  none  to  spare.  Clark 
was  overwhelmed  with  grief  and  chagrin,  for  this  dis- 
aster destroyed  his  hope  of  being  able  to  march  against 
Detroit. 


XII. — Border  Troubles. 

After  Lochry's  defeat  Clark  went  to  the  Falls  of  the 
Ohio,  where  he  found  trouble  and  toil  awaiting  him. 
There  were  difficulties  between  citizens  and  soldiers  at 
Vincennes,  and  trouble  of  the  same  sort  in  the  Illinois 
towns.  Kaskaskia  was  in  constant  peril ;  food  and  sup- 
plies were  scarce  everywhere.  In  Kentucky  many 
people  had  been  obliged  to  give  up  their  farms  and 
move  into  the  forts;  whole  families  had  been  destroyed 
by  the  Indians,  and  the  settlements  were  full  of  widows 
and  orphans.  One  brave  man,  Colonel  Floyd,  had  gone 
in  pursuit  of  the  Indians  with  twenty-five  men.  He  had 
met  a  band  of  two  hundred  savages  and  been  defeated. 

Clark  went  to  work  with  his  unfaiHng  courage  and 
abihty,  first  calHng  a  council  of  war.  Some  were  in 
favor  of  an  expedition  against  the  Indians,  others  of 
building  more  forts  along  the  Ohio,  still  others  of 
attempting  another  outpost  at  the  mouth  of  the  river. 
Clark  acU'ised  a  stronger  fort  at  the  falls,  which  was  built, 


BORDER    TROUBLES.  1 27 

and  called  Fort  Nelson.  Two  others  were  also  erected 
near  by.  Fort  Nelson  contained  about  an  acre  of  ground, 
and  was  surrounded  by  a  ditch  eight  feet  deep  and  ten 
feet  wide.  The  breastworks  were  log  pens  filled  with 
earth ;  and  pickets  ten  feet  high  were  planted  on  them. 
Inside  of  the  fort  was  a  spring  of  running  water. 

Clark  decided  to  have  the  river  patrolled  by  armed 
boats.  He  asked  the  government  for  means  to  build 
them,  but  did  not  receive  any  money,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  there  was  none  in  the  treasury  of  Virginia. 
Although  disappointed  he  was  not  discouraged,  but  set 
to  work  to  do  the  next  best  thing.  He  built  a  gunboat 
himself  and  armed  it  with  cannon.  This  boat  patrolled 
the  river,  from  the  falls  to  where  the  city  of  Cincinnati 
now  stands,  and  did  good  service. 

In  the  spring  of  1782,  another  Indian  war  broke  out. 
Esthill's  Station  was  first  attacked  and  captured.  A 
httle  later  several  hundred  Indians  attacked  Bryant's 
Station.  Here  they  were  not  successful,  but  by  this 
time  the  settlers  were  greatly  alarmed.  One  hundred 
and  eighty-two  men  quickly  got  together  to  fight  the 
Indians.  They  met  them  at  a  place  called  Blue  Licks, 
and  a  fierce  battle  was  fought,  in  which  one  third  of 
the  Kentuckians  lost  their  lives. 

Clark  was  then  called  on  to  cornmand  the  men  who 
were  assembling  from  all  the  western  settlements.  By 
November  he  was  able  to  lead  an  army  of  over  one 
thousand    frontiersmen    towards    the    Indian    villages    on 


J 28  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 

the  Miami  River.  As  was  usually  the  case,  the  savages 
fled  at  the  approach  of  the  white  men,  who  destroyed  a 
number  of  towns,  and  all  crops  and  provisions.  This 
brought  such  poverty  and  famine  on  the  Indians  that 
they  were,  for  the  time,  completely  crushed.  They 
ceased  to  harass  the  Kentucky  border,  and  kept  to  the 
north  of  the  Ohio  River. 


XIIL— After  the  War. 

When  the  treaty  of  peace  between  the  United  States 
and  Great  Britain  was  signed  the  American  people 
began  to  realize  the  great  value  of  George  Rogers 
Clark's  services  to  his  country.  The  Northwest  Terri- 
tory, which  included  what  are  now  the  states  of  Ohio, 
Indiana,  Illinois,  Michigan,  and  Wisconsin,  was  in 
American,  not  English  hands.  Had  it  not  been  so, 
England  might  have  kept  this  territory  for  herself. 

Virginia,  now  one  of  the  United  States,  finding  her- 
self exhausted  by  the  seven  years'  war,  had  neither 
money  nor  supplies  for  Clark's  army  in  the  west.  For 
these  reasons  he  was  relieved  of  his  command  in  1783. 
A  letter  was  sent  him  containing  many  expressions  of 
Virginia's  appreciation  of  his  services.  Nevertheless 
he  was  left  without  work  or  money.  He  found  him- 
self obliged  to  take  the  long  journey  to  Williamsburg 
in    such  poverty  and   distress  that  he  was  in  need  of 


AFTER    THE    WAR. 


129 


even  necessary  clothing.  He  went  to  ask  for  a  little  of 
the  money  he  had  so  hardly  earned.  Twenty  years 
after  his  death  the  government  paid  his  heirs  thirty 
thousand  dollars  on  his  account.  Five  or  six  years 
before  he  died  he  was  allowed  a  pension  of  four  hundred 
dollars  a  year.     In  the  meantime  he  was  a  poor  man. 

In  January,  1785,  Clark  and  two  other  men,  Butler 
and  Lee,  were  sent  by  the  United  States  government  to 
make  treaties  with  the  Wyandotte,  Chippewa,  and  Ottawa 
Indians.  The  council  was  held  at  Fort  Mcintosh,  on 
the  Ohio  River.  The  greatest  of  the  chiefs,  on  seeing 
Clark,  took  him  by  the  hand  and  said,  "  I  thank  the 
Great  Spirit  for  having  this  day  brought  together  two 
such  great  warriors  as  Buckongehelas  and  General 
Clark." 

The  next  January,  Clark,  Butler,  and  Parsons  were 
sent  to  make  a  treaty  with  the  Shawnees.  Three  hun- 
dred Indians  arrived  at  the  meeting  place,  gay  with 
paint  and  feathers.  As  the  garrison  of  the  fort  num- 
bered only  seventy  men,  this  was  rather  alarming.  One 
Indian  made  a  bold  speech,  which  so  excited  the  others 
that  they  whooped  at  every  pause.  The  chief  presented 
black  and  white  wampum,  signifying  that  he  was  ready 
for  either  peace  or  war. 

General  Clark  pushed  these  belts  off  the  table  as  if 
they  were  of  no  consequence,  at  which  all  the  Indians 
started  up  with  a  savage  cry.  Clark  rose  to  his  feet, 
glared   at  them  a  moment,  then  stamped  his  foot,  and 


I30 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK. 


ordered  them  to  "get  out."  They  left  at  once,  and 
held  council  together  all  night;  in  the  morning  they 
sued  for  peace. 

The  men  who  had  gone  with  Clark  to  the  Illinois 
country  received  the  land  promised  them  in  the  con- 
quered territory.  One  thousand  acres,  opposite  Louis- 
ville, was  set   aside  for  a  town  to  be  called  Clarksville. 


COLONEL   CLARK  S    HOME   AT   CLARKSVILLE- 

To  this  settlement  General  Clark  now  gave  his  time  and 
attention,  laying  plans  for  a  fine  city,  which,  however, 
were  never  realized.  Twenty  or  thirty  families  settled 
in  the  new  town,  and  Clark  himself  lived  there,  in  a 
little  log  house  on  the  river  bank. 

As  he  grew  older  he  became  much  broken  in  health, 
and  paralysis  finally  disabled  him.  In  his  helplessness 
he  fell  one  day,  so  near  the  fire  that  one  leg  was  terribly 
burned. 


AFTER    THE    WAR. 


131 


It  became  necessary  to  cut  off  the  injured  limb,  and 
the  old  soldier  bravely  ordered  the  surcreon  to  ''go 
ahead."  Chloroform  was  not  used  in  those  days,  and 
the  only  help  for  a  man  in  such  a  case  was  his  own 
courage.  General  Clark  asked  that  the  drums  and  fifes 
might  be  played  for  him  while  the  operation  was  in 
progress,  and  to  the  music  he  kept  time  with  his  fingers 
during  the  long  two  hours  of  agony. 

The  sword  presented  to  Clark  in  1779  had  been 
bought  for  the  purpose.     In  1812   the  Virginia  legisla- 


THE  SWORD  PRESENTED   TO  COLONEI,  CLARK   BY  THE  STATE 
OF   VIRGINIA. 

ture  ordered  one  made  to  take  its  place.  At  the  time  of 
its  presentation  General  Clark  was  living  on  the  Ken- 
tucky side  of  the  river  with  his  sister.  To  General 
Mercer,  who  had  been  sent  to  him  with  the  sword,  it  is 
said  he  made  the  following  reply: 

''You  have  made  a  very  handsome  address,  and  the 
sword  is  very  handsome,  too.  When  Virginia  needed  a 
sword  I  gave  her  one.  I  am  too  old  and  infirm,  as  you 
see,  ever  to  use  a  sword  again,  but  I  am  glad  that  my 


132 


GEORGE    ROGERS    CLARK. 


old  mother  state  has  not  forgotten  me,  and  I  thank  her  for 
the  honor,  and  you  for  your  kindness  and  friendly  words." 

General  Clark  died  February  thirteenth,  1818,  old, 
paralyzed,  crippled,  poor,  and  with  clouded  mind.  He 
was  buried  in  private  ground  at  Locust  Grove,  just  out 
of  Louisville.  Fifty  years  later  his  remains  were  re- 
moved to  the  Louisville  cemetery,  at  Cave  Hill,  where 
they  now  rest,  marked  by  a  simple  headstone. 

In  the  city  of  Indianapolis,  in  February,  1895,  ^ 
monument  was  erected  in  his  honor. 


MONUMENT  TO   Gl-NERAI.   GKORGE   ROGERS   CLARK   AT  INDIAN- 
APOLIS,   INDIANA 


THE    STORY    OF 
DAVID    CROCKETT 


By    FRANCES    M .    PERRY 


DAVID  CROCK El^. 


DAVID  CROCKETT 

THE   HERO   OF  TENNESSEE 


I. — A  Neglected  Child. 

A  little  ragged  boy  with  frowzy  hair  and  dirty  face 
stood  on  the  bank  of  a  river  screaming  with  rage.  He 
was  angry  with  his  older  brothers,  who  were  paddling 
about  in  a  canoe.  They  did  not  heed  his  screams,  and 
would  soon  be  carried  out  of  hearing  by  the  swiftly 
flowing  water. 

His  little  heart  was  full  of  anger  because  they  had  not 
taken  him  with  them.  But  since  there  is  no  use  in 
crying  when  there  is  no  one  to  hear,  the  child  presently 
began  to  sob  more  quietly. 

In  a  little  while  he  saw  a  workman  running  toward 
the  stream,  and  his  screams  grew  louder.  But  to  his 
surprise  the  man  ran  past  him,  plunged  into  the  water, 
swam  to  the  canoe,  and  with  great  efforts  dragged  it 
ashore. 

The  little  boy  did  not  understand  that  if  the  man  had 
been  a  few  minutes  later  his  brothers  would  have  been 
swept  over  the  falls  and  dashed  to  death  on  the  rocks 

135 


136 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


below.  But  he  did  know  that  they  were  badly  fright- 
ened, and  he  thought  they  deserved  it. 

No  one  told  him  that  it  was  wrong  to  lose  his  temper, 
or  that  he  should  be  very  thankful  to  have  his  brothers 
still  alive.  For  no  one  cared  very  much  what  little 
David  Crockett  thought  or  how  he  felt. 

He  was  left  to  take  care  of  himsel£  No  one  coaxed 
him  through  the  mysteries  of  the  alphabet,  no  one  sang 
him  to  sleep,  or  taught  him  to  lisp  a  prayer. 

His  hard-working  father  and  mother  did  not  wish  to 
be  troubled  with  children's  quarrels.  Each  one  was 
allowed  to  fight  his  own  battles.  As  David  had  several 
brothers  older  than  himself,  he  learned  early  to  stand  up 
for  his  rights  with  voice  and  fist. 

He  usually  had  his  own  way  with  the  boys  ;  for  when 
he  did  not,  he  made  a  great  trouble  about  it,  and  they 
found  it  easier  to  give  up  to  the  headstrong  youngster 
than  to  oppose  him. 

His  mother  scolded  him  when  he  bothered  her.  His 
father  whipped  him  if  he  did  not  mind.  The  only  com- 
mandments the  boy  knew,  were:  "  Mind  your  father,'* 
and,  "  Don't  bother  your  mother." 

David  Crockett's  first  home  was  a  poor  little  floorless 
log  hut  near  the  present  village  of  Limestone  in  East 
Tennessee.  There  he  was  born  on  the  17th  of  August, 
1786,  and  there  he  was  living  at  the  time  of  the  incident 
of  which  I  have  told  you. 

The  cabin  was  a  comfortless  place,  with  nothing  in  it 


A    NEGLECTED    CHILD. 


137 


to  make  life  cheerful  and  happy.  But  David  had  never 
known  anything  better,  and  so  he  enjoyed  himself,  in  his 
own  way,  as  well  as  though  he  were  living  in  a  palace. 

His  father  was  a  restless  man,  never  satisfied  to 
remain  long  in  one  place  ;  and  in  a  short  time  the  old 
home  w^as  abandoned,  and  the  family  moved  to  another 
about  fifty  miles  farther  west. 

Thus  the  Crocketts  went  about  from  one  part  of  Ten- 


MAP    OF    TENNESSEE,   SHOWING    PLACES    WHERE    CROCKETT  LIVED. 


nessee  to  another,  seldom  staying  in  any  one  locality 
longer  than  two  or  three  years.  Wherever  they  went 
the  wild,  wooded  country  was  beautiful.  But  the 
shanties  in  which  they  lived  were  always  dark  and 
dismal.  David  spent  most  of  the  time  out  of  doors  and 
grew  to  be  a  rugged  and  active  boy. 

He  had  a  strong  will  and  generally  succeeded  in 
doing  whatever  seemed  worth  while.  He  thought  it 
worth  while  to  make  his  play  fellows  do  as  he  wished. 
They  looked  upon  him  as  their  leader  and  liked  him. 


I  ■J  8  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

On  the  other  hand  he  had  learned  that  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  displease  his  father.  He  therefore  did 
his  best  at  any  work  that  his  father  told  him  to  do. 
Mr.  Crockett  thought  David  a  handy  boy  and  found 
plenty  of  small  jobs  to  keep  him  busy. 


II. — A  Homesick  Boy. 

When  David  Crockett  was  twelve  years  old  his  father 
kept  an  inn  on  a  forest  road  where  teamsters  stopped  for 
food  and  rest. 

One  evening  David  came  in  whistling.  He  knew  by 
the  wagons  outside  that  there  were  guests  at  the  house, 
and  he  was  sure  of  a  good  supper.  He  noticed  that 
ever>'body  stopped  talking  and  looked  at  him  as  he 
entered.  He  glanced  at  his  mother,  who  was  working 
over  the  fire  with  tearful  eyes.  Then  he  saw  that  his 
father  was  dropping  silver  pieces  into  his  drawer  with  a 
look  of  satisfaction. 

He  listened  with  a  fast  beating  heart  while  his  father 
explained  that  a  driver  had  hired  him  to  help  drive  his 
cattle  to  market  and  told  him  to  be  ready  in  the  morn- 
ing to  start  to  Virginia  with  his  new  master.  A  great 
lump  rose  in  his  throat  and  he  found  it  hard  to  talk. 
His  mother  piled  his  plate  with  good  things,  but  he 
could  not  eat.  The  thought  of  going  so  far  from  home 
among  strangers  gave  him  a  queer,  lonely  feeling. 

On  that  other  day,  long  before,  when  his  brothers  had 


A   HOMESICK   BOY. 


139 


left  him  alone  on  the  shore,  he  was  angry  and  wished  to 
punish  them.  But  now  he  had  no  idea  of  objecting  to 
his  father's  order  and  he  knew  better  than  to  make  a 
scene.  He  struggled  manfully  with  his  feelings  and 
kept  back  the  tears. 

That  was  in  1798,  and  there  were  then  few  roads  or 
bridges  between  East  Tennessee  and  Virginia.  A  four 
hundred  mile  tramp  over  mountainous  land  was  a  hard- 
ship for  even  so  strong  a  boy  as  David  Crockett. 

Our  little  hero  often  got  cold  and  tired  and  hungry. 
He  was  glad  when  night  came.  Then  after  a  hearty 
supper  of  wild  turkey  or  venison  he  would  throw  him- 
self upon  a  bed  of  dry  leaves  and  sleep,  and  dream  of 
home. 

The  journey  ended  a  few  miles  from  the  Natural 
Bridge  in  Virginia.  David's  master  was  pleased  with 
the  work  he  had  done  and  was  kind  to  him.  In  addi- 
tion to  what  he  had  paid  Mr.  Crockett  he  gave  the  boy 
six  dollars.  No  plan  had  been  made  for  David's  return. 
His  employer  wanted  him  to  stay  with  him,  and  offered 
to  do  well  by  him.  But  David  was  so  homesick  that  no 
place  seemed  good  to  him  without  his  father  and  mother 
and  sisters  and  brothers. 

One  day  when  he  was  alone  he  saw  some  teamsters 
traveling  west.  He  knew  them,  for  they  had  once  or 
twice  stopped  at  his  father's  inn.  He  begged  them  to 
take  him  home.  They  were  afraid  they  would  get  into 
trouble  if  they  did  so  without  asking  his  employer;  but 


140 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


they  felt  sorry  for  him  and  promised  to  let  him  go  with 
them  if  he  would  join  them  at  daybreak  the  next  morn- 
ing at  a  tavern  seven  miles  up  the  road. 

That  night  David  tied  his  clothes  into  a  little  bundle 
and  went  to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  He  was  so  happy 
thinking  of   going   home,   and   so   fearful   lest   he   might 


oversleep,  that  he  could  not  close 
his  eyes.     In   the   middle   of   the  * 

night  he  got  up  and  left  the  house  while  every  one  was 
fast  asleep. 

When  he  opened  the  door  large  snowflakes  blew 
against  his  cheeks.  It  was  dark,  but  he  could  see  that 
the  ground  had  a  heavy  coating  of  white  and  the  snow 
was  falling  fast.  This  would  make  his  tramp  harder. 
But  he  had  no  idea  of  giving  up. 


A   HOMESICK    BOY.  I4I 

Blinded  by  the  snow  and  the  darkness,  he  stumbled 
along  toward  the  highway.  He  was  afraid  lest  some 
one  should  find  out  that  he  had  left  and  follow  him. 
When  he  reached  the  road  he  felt  safe,  for  he  thought 
they  would  not  follow  far  in  the  dark,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing his  tracks  would  be  filled  with  snow  so  that  they 
would  not  know  which  way  he  had  gone. 

With  a  lighter  heart  he  trudged  along  in  the  night 
and  the  storm,  and  reached  the  tavern  a  little  before 
daylight.  The  men  were  already  up  and  harnessing 
the  horses.  They  were  surprised  to  see  the  lad  wading 
through  snow  almost  up  to  his  knees.  They  warmed 
and  fed  him,  and  then  the  party '  started  in  the  gray 
dawn. 

David  made  himself  so  helpful  that  he  won  the  good 
will  of  the  men,  and  they  wished  to  keep  him  in  their 
company  all  the  way.  But  the  heavy  wagons  moved 
too  slowly  for  the  impatient  boy.  When-  within  two 
hundred  miles  of  home  he  left  his  friends  and  set  out  on 
foot  alone  through  the  wilderness. 

Just  before  he  reached  a  large  river  he  was  overtaken 
by  a  man  riding  in  his  direction.  This  man  was  lead- 
ing a  horse  and  kindly  invited  the  small  adventurer 
to  mount  it.  David  continued  in  the  care  of  this 
good-hearted  man  until  within  twenty  miles  of  home. 
There  their  ways  separated  and  David  hurried  to  his 
father's  house  as  fast  as  his  nimble  feet  could  carry 
him. 


142  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

lu  this  adventure  the  boy  showed  the  energy  and 
determination  that  in  later  life  won  for  him  the  title  of 
"Go-ahead-Crockett." 


III. — A    Runaway. 

David  stayed  at  home  that  summer  and  helped  his 
father.  In  the  following  autumn  a  school  was  opened 
in  the  neighborhood.  The  settlers  were  glad  to  give 
their  children  a  chance  to  learn  to  read  and  write.  The 
young  people,  large  and  small,  gathered  in  the  log 
schoolhouse,  where  the  new  schoolmaster  set  them  to 
work  to  learn  their  letters.  David  was  one  of  the 
pupils. 

The  first  day  he  watched,  in  wide-eyed  wonder,  every- 
thing that  was  done.  Then  he  grew  tired  of  school  and 
thought  it  very  stupid  to  sit  still  all  day  and  study. 
Most  of  the  people  whom  he  knew  were  unable  to  read 
and  write,  and  he  did  not  see  why  he  need  know  more 
than  they  did.  It  seemed  to  him  much  more  manly  to 
be  at  work.  However,  he  persevered  for  four  days,  and 
was  beginning  to  make  some  headway  with  the  alpha- 
bet, when  his  school  education  was  brought  to  a  sudden 
check. 

He  had  a  quarrel  with  one  of  the  school  boys.  The 
two  boys  had  a  fight  on  the  way  home  from  school. 
Although  the  other  was  the  older  and  the  larger  boy, 
David   proved    to    be    the   stronger.      He   bruised   and 


A    RUNAWAY. 


143 


scratched  his  foe  unmercifully,  and  the  next  day  he  was 
afraid  to  go  back  to  school,  lest  the  teacher  should  find 
out  about  it  and  punish  him. 

For  several  days  he  left  home  in  the  morning  with 
his  brothers,  but  went  to  the  woods  instead  of  to  school. 
Most  of  the  boys  liked  him  too  well  to  tell  his  father, 
and  the  others  were  afraid  of  displeasing  him.  Finally 
the  schoolmaster  wrote  a  note  to  Mr.  Crockett  to  ask 
why  David  did  not  come  to  school. 

When  the  severe  father  learned  that  David  had 
played  truant  for  fear  of  a  whipping,  he  said  he  would 
give  him  a  harder  thrashing  than  any  he  had  ever 
dreamed  of  if  he  did  not  go  back  to  school.  As  David 
refused  to  obey,  he  cut  a  heavy  hickory  stick  and 
started  after  him  in  a  rage. 

The  boy  outran  his  half-drunken  father,  and  hid  till 
the  latter  gave  up  the  chase.  He  felt  well  satisfied 
with  his  escape;  but  when  he  began  to  be  hungry  he  was 
afraid  to  go  home.  He  remembered  how  easily  he  had 
made  friends  among  strangers,  and  decided  to  run 
away. 

He  went  to  the  house  of  a  man  who  he  knew  was 
about  to  take  a  drove  of  cattle  to  Virginia.  As  David 
had  had  experience  in  this  kind  of  work,  the  man  very 
willingly  hired  him  to  go  with  him.  When  the  work 
was  done,  instead  of  returning  to  Tennessee,  the  boy 
found  other  employment. 

He  went  as  far  east  as  Baltimore  and  engaged  to  work 


144 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


on  a  ship  bound  for  London.  The  wagoner,  whom  he 
was  with  at  the  time,  was  a  sensible  man  and  would  not 
let  him  go  to  sea.  This  seemed  to  David  great  cruelty, 
for  he  did  not  know  what  a  miserable,  friendless  little 
drudge  he  would  have  been  on  the  ship. 

Compelled  to  stay  on  land,  he  wandered  from  place  to 
place  working  on  farms,  driving  cattle,  and  tending 
horses.  It  was  never  hard  for  him  to  make  friends  or 
get  work.  He  was  a  cheerful,  jolly  boy;  every  one  liked 
him,  and  he  was  so  lively  and  industrious  that  his  work 
always  gave  satisfaction.  But,  work  as  he  would,  he 
could  not  make  more  than  enough  to  feed  and  clothe 
himself.  And  new  friends  and  new  scenes  could  not 
make  the  faithful  boy  forget  old  ones. 

He  often  thought  of  home,  but  his  father,  with  a 
hickory  stick,  was  the  most  prominent  figure  in  the 
home  picture,  and  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  go 
back.  If  his  father  had  been  angry  with  him  for  run- 
ning away  from  school,  how  much  more  angry  would 
he  be  with  him  for  running  away  from  home!  He  was 
fifteen  years  old  before  his  longing  to  see  home  and 
friends  overcame  his  dread  of  punishment. 

When  at  last  he  came  in  sight  of  the  familiar  little 
inn  after  his  long  absence,  he  saw  wagons  before  the 
door.  He  knew  strangers  were  there  and  the  idea 
occurred  to  him  to  ask  for  a  night's  lodging  as  if  he 
were  a  passing  traveler.  He  was  curious  to  see  if  any 
one  would  recognize  him. 


A  HIRED   HAND.  I45 

When  he  went  in,  the  men  were  lounging  before  the 
fire,  and  the  women  were  getting  supper.  He  sat  in 
the  shadow  of  the  chimney  corner  and  took  no  part  in 
the  conversation. 

When  they  went  to  the  supper-table  the  women 
gave  their  attention  to  their  guests,  and  David  could  not 
escape  the  sharp  eyes  of  his  eldest  sister.  She  looked 
at  him  keenly  for  a  moment,  then  jumped  up  and 
rushed  at  him,  crying:     "Here  is  my  long  lost  brother." 

There  was  great  rejoicing  over  the  returned  runaway. 
When  he  found  how  glad  all  were  to  see  him  again,  and 
when  he  realized  how  great  grief  his  mother  and  sisters 
had  suffered,  he  felt  humbled  and  ashamed.  He  saw 
that  it  would  have  been  more  manly  to  stay  home  and 
take  his  punishment  than  to  make  others  suffer  so  much; 
and  he  wished  that  he  had  done  so. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  in  his  joy  at  the  homecom- 
ing of  his  big  boy,  the  father  forgot  the  threatened 
whipping. 

IV. — A  Hired  Hand. 

The  law  of  Tennessee  required  a  man  to  give  his  son 
a  home  and  support  until  he  was  eighteen  years  old. 
In  return  for  that  the  son's  time,  labor,  and  money  were 
under  the  control  of  his  father. 

David  Crockett  had  shown  that  he  could  take  care  of 
himself.      He  had   unlearned  the  lesson  of  childhood, 


146  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

'':\Iind  your  father";  and  Mr.  Crockett  saw  that  it 
would  be  hard  to  keep  him  at  home  unless  he  chose  to 
stay.  So  he  promised  to  give  him  his  Uberty  if  he 
would  work  out  a  debt  of  thirty-six  dollars  which  he 
owed  to  one  of  the  neighbors. 

David  was  ready  to  do  that.  He  went  at  once  to  the 
man  and  agreed  to  work  for  six  months  in  payment  of 
his  father's  debt.  He  worked  faithfully,  never  missing 
a  day  for  half  a  year.  At  the  end  of  that  time  he  was 
his  own  master.  His  father  had  no  more  right  to  his 
time  or  labor. 

The  youth  had  no  money,  but  he  was  capable  of 
making  his  own  way.  The  man  for  whom  he  had 
been  working  wished  to  keep  him.  But  he  refused 
to  work  longer  for  him,  because  the  men  who  met  at 
his  place  were  men  of  bad  habits  and  character,  and  he 
did  not  wish  to  become  like  them. 

He  went  to  an  old  Quaker  farmer  and  asked  for 
employment.  The  Quaker  allowed  him  to  work  on 
trial  for  a  week.  Then,  being  satisfied  with  his  services, 
he  told  the  boy  that  if  he  would  work  for  him  six 
months  he  would  cancel  a  debt  of  forty  dollars  that 
Mr.  Crockett  owed  him. 

David  thought  it  over.  He  was  not  responsible  for 
his  father's  debts.  He  had  done  his  duty;  and  his 
father  expected  nothing  more  of  him.  Surely  he  owed 
nothing  to  the  man  who  had  hired  him  out  when  he 
was  twelve  years  old  to  work  among  strangers,  and  who 


A   HIRED   HAND.  1 47 

in  drunken  fury  had  driven  him  from  home.  But  he 
was  a  generous  boy,  and  the  thought  of  giving  his  old 
father  a  pleasant  surprise  pleased  him  so  much  that  he 
accepted  the  Quaker's  offer. 

For  another  six  months  he  worked  hard  and  faith- 
fully without  even  visiting  his  home,  though  he  was 
only  fifteen  miles  away  from  it.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  the  Quaker  gave  him  his  father's  note  for  the  forty 
dollars.     Then  he  felt  proud  as  a  king. 

One  Sunday  afternoon  he  brushed  his  hair  and  his  old 
clothes,  borrowed  a  horse,  and  rode  over  to  his  home. 
The  family  gave  him  a  warm  welcome.  He  was  now 
the  family  pet.  He  had  traveled  so  much  and  had  so 
many  interesting  experiences  to  relate  that  even  his 
father  listened  with  respect  to  his  conversation.  Then, 
too,  he  was  his  own  master,  making  his  own  living;  and 
that  made  them  all  feel  proud  of  him. 

As  they  sat  chattering  about  various  things  he  took 
out  the  note  and  handed  it  to  his  father.  The  old  man 
looked  at  it  with  a  troubled  face.  He  thought  David 
had  been  sent  to  collect  the  money.  He  shook  his  head 
sadly,  and  said  he  didn't  have  the  money  and  could 
not  see  how  he  could  get  it.  That  was  a  proud  and 
happy  moment  for  David,  but  he  tried  to  speak  care- 
lessly:  ''You  needn't  bother  about  the  money.  The 
note's  paid.  I  paid  it  myself  and  just  brought  it  to  you 
for  a  present." 

The  hard  old  man  knew  that  he  had  not  been  a  very 


148  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

good  father  to  David,  and  he  was  so  moved  by  this 
undeserved  kindness  that  he  shed  tears.  When  David 
saw  his  father  so  overcome  by  his  generosity  he  felt 
repaid  for  his  six  months'  labor. 

He  had  now  worked  a  year  for  his  father,  and,  as  he 
had  had  no  money  in  all  that  time,  his  clothes  were 
nearly  worn  out  and  too  small  for  him.  So  he  bar- 
gained to  work  for  the  Quaker  for  a  suit  of  clothes. 

While  he  was  doing  that,  a  niece  of  the  Quaker  came 
to  the  house  on  a  visit.  She  was  a  pretty  girl  and  David 
fell  in  love  with  her.  When  he  told  her  so,  and  asked 
her  to  marry  him,  she  said  she  had  promised  to  marry 
her  cousin.  The  poor  boy  thought  he  never  could  be 
happy  again.  He  could  not  be  gay  and  light  hearted. 
He  became  dissatisfied  with  himself  He  thought  that 
if  he  had  had  some  education  the  Quaker  girl  would 
have  liked  him  better,  and  so  he  decided  to  go  to  school. 

He  was  seventeen  years  old,  but  had  never  attended 
school  but  four  days  in  his  life.  He  did  not  even  know 
his  letters.  The  Quaker  was  willing  to  give  him  his 
board  and  allow  him  four  days  a  week  for  school  if  he 
would  work  for  him  the  rest  of  the  time. 

Poor  David  was  a  big  fellow  to  start  to  school.  But 
it  was  not  unusual  to  find  boys  of  his  age  in  the  A,  B,  C 
class  at  that  time;  for  there  were  few  schools,  and  many 
boys,  like  David,  had  had  no  chance  to  go  to  school 
when  they  were  children.  He  tried  hard  and  in  time 
learned  to  write  his  name,  to  read  from  the  primer,  and 


A   HIRED    HAND.  I49 

to  work  problems  in  addition,  subtraction  and  multipli- 
cation. But  he  made  slow  progress  and  liked  active  life 
better  than  study. 

In  the  course  of  time  he  forgot  his  disappointment 
and  began  to  enjoy  life  again.  He  was  fond  of  fun  and 
enjoyed  dances,  harvest  frolics,  and  such  rude  backwoods 
amusements.  He  liked  to  hunt  and  was  considered  one 
of  the  best  shots  in  the  neighborhood.  It  was  much 
easier  for  him  to  hit  the  center  spot  of  a  target  than  to 
get  the  correct  answer  to  a  problem  in  subtraction. 

One  of  his  keenest  pleasures  was  a  shooting  match. 
The  good  Quaker  with  whom  he  lived  did  not  approve 
of  this  pastime,  but  David  and  the  young  men  of  his 
time  thought  there  was  no  better  sport. 

When  a  farmer  wished  to  raise  a  little  money  he  would 
put  up  one  of  his  fine  cattle  to  be  shot  for.  Tickets 
were  sold  for  twenty-five  cents  each,  and  one  man  could 
buy  as  many  as  he  wished.  Each  ticket  entitled  the 
owner  to  one  shot.  Boards  with  crosses  in  the  center 
served  for  targets.  Every  young  man  who  could  get  a 
gun  came  to  try  his  luck  in  winning  a  portion  of  the 
beef. 

The  one  who  shot  nearest  the  center  was  given  the 
hide  and  tallow;  the  next  got  his  choice  of  the  hind- 
quarters of  the  beef;  the  third  got  the  other  hindquarter; 
the  fourth  was  given  his  choice  of  the  forequarters;  the 
fifth  took  the  remaining  forequarter;  and  the  sixth  got 
the  lead  in  the  tree  against  which  they  shot. 


ISO 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


David  was  very  successful.  He  sometimes  bought 
several  tickets  and  won  not  only  the  first  but  several 
other  portions  of  the  beef.  He  could  easily  sell  the 
meat  for  money.  And  you  may  be  sure  a  youth  who 
worked  so  hard  and  was  paid  so  Httle  was  glad  to  hear 
silver  clinking  in  his  own  pockets. 


V. — A  Householder. 


In  all  the  country  there  was  no  young  man  more 
popular  than  David  Crockett.  The  old  people  liked 
him  because  he  was  honest,  kindhearted,  and  industri- 
ous. The  boys  thought  him  the  best  company  in  the 
world,  for  no  one  could  tell  such  a  funny  story,  or 
invent  such  prime  jokes.  The  girls  admired  him  very 
much;  for  they  liked  to  dance  with  the  graceful  youth 
who  wore  his  tattered  buckskin  suit  with  the  air  of  a 
prince. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  after  several  disappointments 
he  at  last  found  a  pretty  little  Irish  girl,  about  his  own 
age,  who  loved  him  so  much  that  she  did  not  object  to 
his  poverty.  His  only  possessions  were  the  clothes  on 
his  back  and  an  old  horse  he  had  bought  v/ith  half  a 
year's  work.  But  he  felt  so  rich  in  the  love  of  the 
little  maid  that  he  did  not  think  that  the  possession  of 
houses  and  lands  was  at  all  necessary  to  happiness. 

After  the  wedding  David  took  his  bride  to  his 
father's  house,  where  a  large  company  had  gathered  to 


A   HOUSEHOLDER. 


151 


welcome  the  young  couple.  They  stayed  there  for  a 
few  days,  and  then  returned  to  the  bride's  mother,  who 
gave  them  a  spinning  wheel  and  two  cows  and  calves 
for  a  wedding  present.  David  rented  a  cabin  and  a  few 
acres  of  ground  near  by  and  started  farming. 

He  had  the  horse  and  cows  to  begin  with,  but  no  fur- 
niture or  tools.  They  could  make  chairs  and  tables  and 
beds ;  and  as  for  a  stove 

there   was    no    need    of  r^.^^f-^'^y, 

that,  for  everybody 
cooked  by  the  fireplace 
in  those  days.  The 
Crocketts'  cabin  was 
better  fitted  up  than 
that  of  most  young 
couples  of  that  neigh- 
borhood. 

David's  former  em- 
ployer, the  Quaker,  gave  him  fifteen  dollars.  This  seemed 
like  great  wealth  to  David  and  his  young  bride.  They 
went  to  the  store  together  and  bought  pans,  dishes,  tools, 
and  such  other  things  as  they  needed,  but  could  not  make ; 
and  they  soon  had  a  cozy  home. 

The  little  housewife  was  a  beautiful  weaver  and  her  fin- 
gers were  never  idle.  David  worked  on  the  farm  and 
sometimes  went  hunting,  but  he  had  a  hard  time  to  make 
enough  to  pay  his  rent. 

A  good  many  families  were  moving  further  west,  and 


<-v>,'0«^>^ 


DAVID  S    CABIN. 


152 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


David  Crockett  thought  it  would  be  a  sensible  thing  for 
him  to  move  also.  It  would  be  pleasanter  to  support 
his  family  by  hunting  than  by  farming.  Game  was,  of 
course,  more  plentiful  in  the  more  unsettled  parts  of  the 
state. 

It  was  little  harder  for  people  who  lived  as  he  did  to 
move  from  one  home  to  another  than  it  is  for  Indians  or 
Arabs  to  change  their  dwelling  places.  The  few  house- 
hold articles  worth  moving  could  be  packed  on  two  or 
three  horses.  The  wife  and  the  small  children  were 
made  comfortable  on  the  back  of  some  old  nag.  The 
rest  of  the  family  could  walk.  Wagons  were  sometimes 
used;  and  in  some  places  where  roads  had  been  made 
through  the  wilderness,  long  trains  of  movers  might  be 
seen  making  their  way  slowly  towards  the  unsettled  west. 

In  fair  weather  the  travelers  spent  the  night  under 
the  open  sky  by  a  camp-fire,  with  perhaps  a  watchman 
to  keep  off  wolves  and  mountain  wildcats.  If  it  rained 
a  rude  shed  was  made  of  tree  boughs.  A  tender  wild 
turkey  browned  over  the  wood  fire  furnished  the  hungry 
wayfarers  with  a  delicious  repast.  When  a  spot  was 
found  that  seemed  good  for  a  home,  it  required  but  a 
few  days'  work  to  clear  a  garden  patch  and  make  a 
"camp"  or  hut  of  logs.  In  this  way  David  Crockett 
moved  several  times. 

Hunting  was  then  as  profitable  an  occupation  as 
farming,  especially  for  a  poor  man  who  did  not  have 
money  enough  to  buy  good   farming  implements  and 


A  HOUSEHOLDER. 


153 


stock.  Young  Crockett  was  a  fine  hunter,  and,  after 
moving  to  his  new  home,  he  spent  most  of  the  time  in 
scouring  the  woods  for  choice  game  or  in  dressing  skins. 
The  fame  of  his  woodcraft  and  marksmanship  spread 
through  all  that  part  of  the  country. 

This  seems  to  us  a  shiftless  way  to  live,  but  it  was  the 
best  way  those  poor  backwoodsmen  knew.     We  are  glad 


A    TRAIN   OF  MOVERS  GOING  WEST. 


they  could  be  happy  and  contented  with  so  little.  We 
shall  find  that  they  were  intelligent  and  brave,  as  well. 
When  Crockett  was  living  in  Franklin  County,  Ten- 
nessee, trouble  broke  out  between  the  Creek  Indians 
and  the  white  people.  The  Indians  suddenly  attacked 
the  settlement  at  Fort  Minns,  in  southern  Alabama, 
and  murdered  about  four  hundred  people.  Men,  women, 
and  children  were  killed  without  mercy.    This  happened 


154  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

far  away  from  Crockett's  home  in  Tennessee.  He  had 
no  friends  there  to  write  to  him  about  it.  He  had  no 
daily  paper  and  there  was  no  telegraph  then.  But  one 
man  told  another,  and  not  many  days  passed  before  the 
lonely  settlers  on  the  remote  frontier  were  talking  over 
the  terrible  deed  with  fear  and  anger. 

David  Crockett  had  always  been  opposed  to  war,  but 
he  was  one  of  the  first  to  volunteer  to  fight  the  Indians,^ 
When  he  told  his  wife  that  he  was  going  to  the  war  she 
urged  him  not  to  leave  her  and  her  two  little  children 
alone  in  the  wilderness.  It  was  hard  for  him  to  with- 
stand her  tears  and  entreaties.  But  he  told  her  that  no 
pioneers,  not  even  they  themselves,  would  be  safe  unless 
the  Indians  were  punished.  He  reminded  her  that  there 
was  a  good  supply  of  meat  and  corn,  sufficient  to  last 
till  his  return;  and  he  said  that  he  would  probably  be 
back  safe  and  sound  in  two  months. 

He  did  his  best  to  comfort  her,  but  never  wavered  in 
his  determination  to  do  what  seemed  as  much  his  duty 
as  any  other  man's.  He  could  talk  well,  and  his  wife, 
who  was  really  a  brave,  sensible  woman,  was  soon  won 
over  to  think  as  he  did.  Each  went  to  work  to  provide 
for  the  other's  comfort  during  the  separation. 


VI. — A  Soldier. 

The  Tennessee  boys  proved  to  be  the   heroes  of  the 
war  with  the  Creek  Indians.     In  that  war  Crockett  did 


A    SOLDIER.  155 

good  service  as  a  private  soldier.  He  liked  adventure, 
change  of  scene,  and  excitement,  and  the  war  offered 
these.  Because  of  his  skill  with  the  rifle  and  knowledge 
of  forest  travel  he  was  chosen  as  a  member  of  a  scouting 
party. 

This  little  band  of  men  went  before  the  army  to  see 
where  the  Indians  were  and  what  they  were  doing. 
The  country  was  unknown  to  them,  and  they  were  in 
danger  of  falling  into  an  ambush  of  Indians.  It  was 
hard  to  find  the  silent,  swift-footed  foe.  But  the  scouts 
were  helped  by  some  of  the  Cherokee  Indians  who  were 
friendly  to  the  whites. 

When  the  scouts  found  a  Creek  village  they  sent  word 
to  the  army.  If  the  town  was  deserted  when  the 
soldiers  reached  it  they  plundered  and  burned  it.  But 
sometimes  the  soldiers  came  upon  the  towns  before  the 
inhabitants  knew  they  were  near.  Then  the  troops 
surrounded  the  surprised  savages.  The  Indians  usually 
tried  to  break  through  the  line  of  soldiers,  and  some- 
times did  so.  But  generally  the  fire  from  the  guns  was 
so  terrible  that  the  Indians  were  driven  back.  They 
then  rushed  frantically  against  another  part  of  the  wall 
of  soldiers,  only  to  meet  the  same  deadly  fire. 

At  one  time  when  so  many  Of  the  savages  had  fallen 
in  this  way  that  there  was  no  hope  of  escape,  the  women 
and  children  asked  for  mercy  and  were  made  prisoners. 
But  the  warriors  were  too  proud  for  that.  Nearly  forty 
of  them  crowded  into  a  log  house  hoping  to  fight  from 


156 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


that  shelter.     But  the  soldiers  set  fire  to  it  and  burned 
them,  or  shot  them  as  they  ran  from  the  flames. 

The  white  people  were  so  infuriated  against  the 
Creeks  that  they  treated  them  as  if  they  were  wild 
beasts.  Detachments  of  soldiers 
were  sent  out  to  scour  the  country 
for  Creeks  and  destroy  them  by  fair 
means  or  foul. 

While  our  soldiers  caused  great 
suffering  they  had  a  very  hard  time 
themselves.  At  times  the  Indians 
surprised  them.  Once  the  famous 
General  Jackson  himself  was  almost 
defeated  by  them.  But  the  enemy 
that  gave  the  United  States  soldiers 
the  most  trouble  was  hunger.  They  were  in  the  south 
far  from  any  source  of  supplies.  Before  deserting  a  town 
the  Indians  destroyed  their  crops  and  provisions  so  that 
they  would  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  white  men. 
Therefore  the  soldiers  got  no  food  from  the  country 
through  which  they  traveled.  At  times  they  had  noth- 
ing to  eat  but  acorns.  Their  horses  became  thin  and 
feeble,  and  the  men  were  nearly  starved. 

David  Crockett  was  not  less  cruel  than  others  to  the 
Creek  Indians.  But  he  did  much  to  relieve  the  hard- 
ships of  his  fellow  soldiers.  He  was  always  ready  with 
a  hearty  laugh  and  a  funny  story  to  rouse  their  droop- 
ing spirits.     By  nature  strong,  patient,  and  generous,  he 


INDIAN   IN   AMBUSH. 


A    SOLDIER.  157 

was  able  and  willing  to  help  those  less  fortunate  than 
himself. 

Often  he  got  permission  to  go  hunting  and  risked  his 
life  alone  in  the  forest.  Men  offered  him  large  sums  for 
the  squirrels  and  wild  fowls  he  brought  back.  But  he 
refused  their  offers.  He  might  have  gained  favor  with 
his  officers  by  giving  them  his  game.  Instead  he  gave 
all  to  some  sick  soldier  or  divided  freely  with  his  mess- 
mates. 

His  popularity  with  the  men,  his  good  common  sense 
and  ability,  might  have  secured  him  promotion  to  the 
rank  of  an  officer,  had  it  not  been  for  the  independent 
way  in  which  he  sometimes  conducted  himself. 

At  one  time,  becoming  dissatisfied  with  the  way  in 
which  the  captain  divided  the  scant  provisions,  he  led 
his  mess  off  in  the  night.  It  was  a  good  thing  for  the 
starving  men,  for  they  found  plenty  of  fat  turkeys  and 
some  bee  trees  full  of  honey.  The  party  rejoined  the 
army  with  a  fine  buck,  and  just  at  the  same  time  some 
men  from  the  settlements  arrived  with  a  supply  of 
corn. 

Crockett  was  one  of  the  men  who  went  home  in  spite 
of  Jackson's  order  to  stay  in  the  field.  The  volunteers 
had  served  one  month  longer  than  the  time  for  which 
they  had  enlisted.  Their  clothing  was  in  tatters  and 
their  horses  almost  worn  out. 

But  Crockett  was  also  one  of  the  few  who  went  back 
to  the  war.     After  visiting  his  family  he  supplied  him- 


>s 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


self  with  new  clothes  and  a  fresh  horse  and  returned  to 
the  army  to  serve  six  months. 

In  all  he  enlisted  three  times.  The  Indians  were 
then  so  subdued  that  there  were  no  more  battles. 
Soldierincr  became  very  uneventful  and  uninteresting. 
Then  Crockett  was  glad  to  go  back  to  his  cabin  on  the 
western  frontier. 


VII.— A  Leading  Citizen. 
After  so  much  roaming  about,  David  Crockett  was  at 
last  content  to  settle  down  to  the  quiet  life  of  a  farmer. 
For  two  vears  he  worked  away  happily  enough.     Then 

a  o^reat  sorrow  came  into  his 
life.  His  wife  died,  and  all 
the  cheer  and  comfort  that  had 
made  home  sweet  to  this  rest- 
less man  left  the  little  cabin 
fKfS^S^-^^^-^^  ^-"  and  it  seemed  a  very  poor 
^^^^-''  ^.      place. 

Sil  There   was  no  one  now   to 

object  to  his  going  to  war;  no 
one  to  welcome  him  when  he 
came  home.  He  missed  the  busy  hum  of  the  spinning- 
wheel.  The  room  she  had  kept  so  tidy  refused  to  look 
neat.  The  children  were  forlorn  and  dirty.  They  cried, 
and  he  could  not  comfort  them.  They  quarreled,  and 
he  could  not  settle  their  disputes.  He  saw  that  he  could 
not  fill  their  mother's  place. 


"IT  SEEMED   A    VERY 
POOR   PLACE." 


A    LEADING    CITIZEN. 


159 


He  felt  helpless  and  homeless  and  began  to  think  it 
would  be  best  for  him  to  marry  again.  This  time  he 
did  not  select  a  gay,  dancing,  rosy-cheeked  girl,  but 
a  sensible,  kindly  woman,  a  widow  with  two  children 
of  her  own. 

After  his  marriage,  he  wished  to  move  again  and 
start  afresh.  Having  been  pleased  with  the  country  he 
had  passed  through  during  the  war,  he  organized  a  little 
party  of  friends  and  they  started  out  to  explore.  When 
far  from  home  in  the  wilderness  he  was  taken  ill  with 
malarial  fever. 

He  did  not  lack  for  good  care  and  kind,  if  clumsy, 
nursing.  Those  were  days  of  true  hospitality.  The 
pioneer  living  alone  in  the  forest  had  no  neighbor  on 
whom  he  could  shift  the  responsibility  of  caring  for  the 
needy  stranger.  The  sick  man  was  received  at  the 
home  of  a  backwoodsman  and  taken  care  of.  He  was 
ill  for  a  long  time.  When  he  reached  home  at  last  even 
his  wife  was  surprised  to  find  that  he  was  still  alive. 

Soon  after  his  recovery  he  moved  to  a  famous 
hunting-ground  in  southwestern  Tennessee  that  had 
been  purchased  from  the  Indians.  At  first  there 
was  no  law  or  local  government  in  the  new  settle- 
ment, and  none  was  needed;  for  the  few  people  who 
lived  there  were  honest  and  industrious.  But  as  the 
fame  of  the  district  grew,  great  numbers  of  settlers 
came. 
.   Some  of  these  settlers  were  selfish  and  ready  to  take 


l6o  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

advantage  of  the  weak.  Some  were  wicked  men  who 
had  come  west  to  escape  punishment  and  find  new  vic- 
tims to  cheat.  With  such  characters  in  the  settlement 
trouble  began,  and  some  sort  of  government  was  needed 
to  protect  the  good  from  the  bad. 

The  settlers  met  and  chose  officers  to  take  charge  of 
affairs.  They  selected  good  men  and  left  them  free  to 
do  whatever  they  thought  was  right.  Thus  the  officers 
had  great  power.  David  Crockett  was  one  of  them. 
When  word  was  brought  to  him  that  a  man  had  stolen, 
or  had  refused  to  pay  a  debt,  or  had  injured  another  in 
any  way,  he  sent  his  constable  after  the  offender.  He 
listened  attentively  to  both  sides  of  the  story.  If  he 
found  the  accused  guilty  he  had  him  punished. 

Sometimes  the  punishments  were  very  severe  and 
humiliating.  Whipping  was  very  common.  One  of 
the  most  frequent  crimes  was  pig-stealing.  The  pigs 
were  marked  and  turned  loose  in  the  woods.  They 
were  an  easy  and  tempting  prey  for  the  hungry  man. 

During  the  time  David  Crockett  served  as  officer  no 
one  ever  questioned  the  justice  of  his  decisions.  He 
knew  nothing  about  law.  He  could  scarcely  write  his 
name;  but  he  had  a  great  deal  of  shrewdness  and  com- 
mon sense,  and  he  understood  the  men  among  whom  he 
lived. 

Later,  when  the  settlement  was  recognized  by  the 
state,  Crockett  was  appointed  "squire"  by  the  legis- 
lature.    The  work  of  his  office  became  more  formal. 


A   LEADING   CITIZEN.  l6l 

He  had  to  keep  a  book  and  write  out  warrants  for 
arrests.  At  first  he  had  to  ask  the  constable  for  help  in 
this.  But  now  that  he  saw  a  use  for  writing  he  tried 
hard  to  learn  and  soon  was  able  to  write  his  own  war- 
rants and  keep  his  own  books. 

When  David  Crockett  started  to  do  anything  he  was 
pretty  sure  to  ^'go  ahead."  That  was  true  of  him  in 
his  boyhood  when  he  ran  away  from  his  employer  to  go 
home,  and  again  when  he  ran  away  from  school  and 
home.  When  he  was  older  and  began  to  work  he  went 
steadily  ahead  and  gave  his  father  double  service. 
Then,  as  hunter  and  marksman,  he  had  won  dis- 
tinction as  the  bravest  and  most  skillful.  In  the 
wars,  his  neighbors  had  been  satisfied  with  two  months 
of  service,  but  he  had  enlisted  three  times.  As  a 
pioneer  he  had  moved  again  and  again ;  keeping  always 
in  the  vanguard  of  civilization. 

It  was  still  his  disposition  to  make  the  most  of  his 
opportunities,  and  having  gained  some  prominence 
among  the  settlers  he  became  ambitious.  He  borrowed 
money  and  built  a  large  grist  mill,  distillery,  and 
powder  factory.  He  was  very  popular  among  the 
backwoodsmen  and  was  made  colonel  of  a  regiment 
of  militia.  He  was  ever  afterwards  called  ''Colonel" 
Crockett. 

His  friends  urged  him  to  be  a  candidate  to  represent 
his  district  in  the  state  legislature.  He  consented  and 
gave  his  name  as  a  candidate  in  February.      In  March 


l62 


DAVID  CROCKETT. 


he  went  to  North  Carolina  with  a  drove  of  horses,  and 
was  gone  three  months. 

When  he  returned  home  he  wetit  to  work  to  secure 
his  election.  He  knew  nothing  about  government. 
He  did  not  even  know  the  meaning  of  the  word.     But 


CROCKETT'S  FIRST  SPEECH. 

he  knew  that  the  men  who  did 
the  voting  understood  as  little  about 
'"'  governmental  affairs    as    he  did.      He 

knew  also  that  most  of  them  were 
willing  to  elect  a  man  whom  they  could  trust  to  take 
care  of  their  political  interests.  So  he  sought  to 
be  popular  with  the  voters.  His  reputation  as  a 
hunter,  his  ability  to  tell  laughable  stories,  and  his 
timely  *' treats"  did  more  to  win  the  good  will  of  the 


A    LEADING    CITIZEN.  163 

voters  than  his  rival's  learned  speeches.  He  was  suc- 
cessful from  the  first. 

At  that  time  people  came  from  far  and  near  to  the 
political  meetings  and  had  a  good  time.  The  first  one 
that  Colonel  Crockett  took  part  in  was  held  in  Heck- 
man  County.  Both  parties  joined  in  a  squirrel  hunt 
that  lasted  two  days.  After  the  hunt,  they  were  to  have 
a  great  feast  in  the  open  air,  and  the  party  that  got  the 
smallest  number  of  squirrels  had  to  pay  all  of  the 
expense.  Crockett  shot  many  squirrels  in  that  hunt 
and  his  party  brought  in  the  largest  number. 

The  feast  was  to  be  followed  by  dancing,  but  as  they 
lingered  at  the  tables  talking,  some  one  called  for  a 
speech.  Both  candidates  were  present,  but  Crockett 
was  called  for  first.  This  was  new  business  for  him. 
He  had  never  paid  any  attention  to  public  speeches  and 
did  not  know  how  to  begin.  He  felt  ill  at  ease  and 
made  excuses.  But  all  clamored  for  a  speech,  and  his 
rival  was  especially  eager,  for  he  knew  Crockett  was  an 
ignorant  man,  and  he  wished  to  see  him  fail. 

Perceiving  that  he  could  not  escape,  he  mounted  the 
stump  of  an  old  forest  tree  and  began.  He  told  the 
people  bluntly  that  he  had  come  to  get  their  votes  and 
that  if  they  didn't  watch  out  he  would  get  them  too. 
Then  he  could  think  of  no  more  to  say.  After  making 
two  or  three  vain  attempts  to  go  on  with  his  speech  he 
gave  it  up,  saying  that  he  was  like  a  man  he  had  heard 
about  who  was  beating  on  the  head  of  an  empty  barrel 


164  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

by  the  road.  A  traveler  passing  by  asked  him  what  he 
was  doino-  that  for.  He  answered  that  there  was  some 
cider  in  the  barrel  a  few  days  before,  and  he  was  trying 
to  see  if  it  was  there  yet.  Crockett  said  that  he  was  in 
the  same  fix.  There  had  been  a  little  bit  of  a  speech  in 
him  a  few  minutes  ago,  but  he  couldn't  get  at  it.  At 
this  the  people  all  laughed.  Then  he  told  several  funny 
stories. 

Seeing  that  he  had  made  a  good  impression,  he 
stopped.  As  he  got  down  from  the  stump  he  remarked 
to  those  around  him  that  he  wasn't  used  to  speaking, 
and  his  throat  was  so  dry  that  he  thought  it  was  about 
time  to  take  a  drink.  His  friends  gathered  about  him 
and  he  entertained  them  in  true  backwoods  fashion, 
while  his  rival  was  left  to  make  his  speech  to  a  slim 
audience. 

Before  Crockett  was  called  on  to  speak  again  he  had 
the  good  fortune  to  hear  several  strong  speeches  on  both 
sides.  In  that  way  he  acquired  some  political  ideas 
which  he  was  able  to  mix  with  his  funny  stories  in  such 
a  way  as  to  make  a  very  popular  stump  speech.  When 
election  day  came  there  was  good  evidence  of  his  suc- 
cess. He  received  twice  as  many  votes  as  his  com- 
petitor. 

He  had  a  quick,  active  mind  and,  by  listening  to 
discussions  and  debates  in  the  legislature,  Crockett  soon 
knew  as  mucli  about  public  affliirs  as  the  other  mem- 
bers.    He  was  not  at  all  timid,  and  spoke  frequently. 


A    BEAR    HUNTER.  1 65 

His  wit,  his  easy,  familiar  manners,  his  blunt,  straight- 
forward ways,  gained  him  many  friends  and  admirers. 
He  could  argue  as  well  with  funny  stories  as  most  men 
could  with  sharp  words. 

When  the  session  closed  and  the  members  went  to 
their  homes  in  various  parts  of  the  state,  they  repeated 
his  stories,  and  the  name  of  ''  Davy  Crockett"  became 
known  all  over  Tennessee. 


Vni. — A  Bear  Hunter. 

A  heavy  misfortune  befell  Colonel  Crockett  while  he 
was  in  the  legislature.  His  mills  were  washed  away 
by  a  spring  flood.  He  was  obliged  to  sell  all  the  prop- 
erty he  had  left  to  pay  what  he  owed  on  the  mills. 
Then  he  resolved  to  make  another  start  in  the  world. 

With  his  little  boy  and  a  young  man,  he  went  farther 
west  to  look  for  a  suitable  location.  He  found  a  place 
that  seemed  to  be  what  he  wanted,  on  the  Obion  River 
not  far  from  the  Mississippi.  The  traveler  was 
reminded  by  the  yawning  cracks  in  the  earth,  that  a 
great  earthquake  had  visited  that  section.  There  had 
also  been  a  great  storm  or  hurricane  there  not  long 
before,  and  the  fallen  timber  made  a  good  retreat  for 
bears.  The  region  was  almost  uninhabited;  but  many 
Indians  came  there  to  hunt.  It  was  wild  enough  to 
suit  any  hunter's  fancy,  and  Crockett  began  to  make 
preparations  for  the  coming  of  his  family. 


1 66 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


With  the  help  of  some  passing  boatmen  who  were 
taking  a  cargo  of  provisions  up  the  river  he  hastily  built 
a  cabin.  The  men  had  to  wait  for  the  river  to 
rise  to  take  their  boat  up  the  shallow  stream.  They 
helped  Crockett  build  his  house  and  gave  him  some  pro- 
visions, such  as  meal,  salt,  and  sugar. 
In  return  for  this,  he  went  with 
them  up  the  river  and  helped  them 
unload  their  boat. 

He  then  went  back  to  his  new 
dwelling.  He  spent  some  time 
hunting  deer  and  bears,  clearing  a 
garden,  planting  and  tending  his 
corn,  and  making  rude  furniture. 
When  all  was  ready  he  returned  for 
his  wife  and  children. 

It  seemed  like  old  times  to  live 
in  a  little  forest  cabin,  miles  from  any  other  white 
family,  depending  on  the  hunt  for  food  and  clothes. 
But  since  poverty  made  it  necessary  to  live  so  humbly, 
David  Crockett  could  take  up  the  old  life  cheerfully. 
His  patience  and  fortitude  were  as  well  displayed  in  the 
small  things  of  life  as  in  the  great. 

Tliat  winter  his  supply  of  powder  gave  out.  It  was 
time  to  hunt.  Then,  too,  Christmas  was  coming  and 
the  most  glorious  part  of  the  Christmas  celebration  was 
the  firing  of  Christmas  guns.  Clearly  he  must  have 
some  powder. 


HUNTING   DKKR. 


A    BEAR    HUNTER.  167 

There  was  a  keg  full  of  powder  that  belonged  to  him 
at  his  brother-in-law's,  who  had  settled  about  six  miles 
from  him.  But  the  river  was  between  them,  and  the 
country  was  flooded  by  the  fall  rains.  In  order  to 
reach  that  keg  of  powder  he  would  have  to  wade 
through  water  for  a  mile.  There  were  four  inches  of 
snow  on  the  ground,  and  the  water  was  almost  freezing 
cold. 

His  wife  begged  him  not  to  go.  But  it  was  of  no  use. 
He  cut  a  stout  stick  to  feel  the  way,  so  that  he  should 
not  fall  into  a  ravine  or  hole,  and  started.  He  waded 
through  water  almost  up  to  his  waist.  Once  in  cross- 
ing a  deep  place  on  a  floating  log  he  fell  into  water  neck 
deep.  He  was  so  cold  that  there  was  scarcely  any  feel- 
ing in  his  limbs.  He  tried  to  run  when  he  got  out  of 
the  water,  but  found  that  he  could  scarcely  walk.  Still 
he  struggled  on  through  five  miles  of  rough  forest,  and 
at  last  reached  his  journey's  end. 

After  hot  drinks  and  a  night's  rest,  he  awoke 
refreshed  and  well.  A  thin  coat  of  ice  was  forming 
over  the  water,  and  he  waited  two  days  hoping  it  would 
become  strong  enough  to  bear  his  weight.  The  ice  was 
not  so  heavy  as  he  had  hoped,  but  he  knew  that  his 
wife  would  worry  about  him  and  that  his  children  were 
without  meat,  and  so  he  shouldered  his  keg  of  powder 
and  went  ahead. 

In  some  places  the  ice  was  thick  enough  to  support 
him,  but  he  could  never  tell  at  what  moment  or  in  how 


1 68  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

deep  water  it  would  break.  When  he  fell  through  he 
had  to  take  his  tomahawk  and  cut  a  path  for  himself 
through  the  thin  ice. 

He  reached  home  safe,  and  you  may  be  sure  the 
Crockett  family  fired  a  merry  salute  to  Christmas  that 
year  and  feasted  on  juicy  steaks  of  bear's  meat  and  plump 
wild  turkey. 

Bear  hunting  was  Colonel  Crockett's  favorite  sport. 
In  one  vear  he  killed  one  hundred  and  five  bears.  The 
meat  was  considered  a  great  delicacy,  and  bearskins 
were  very  useful  to  the  hunter  and  brought  a  good  price 
in  the  market. 

Then  there  was  enough  danger  and  excitement  in 
hunting  those  great  ferocious  creatures  to  suit  Crockett. 
He  had  several  dogs,  scarred  like  old  soldiers  from  many 
a  battle  with  the  bears.  They  loved  the  sport  as  well 
as  he  did.  He  would  tramp  through  the  woods  with 
Betsey  (as  he  called  his  gun)  on  his  shoulder,  and  Tiger, 
Rattler,  and  the  rest  of  his  dogs  at  his  heels,  until  one  of 
them  got  the  scent  of  a  bear.  Then  off  it  would  go,  fol- 
lowed by  the  others  barking  in  full  chorus.  Crockett 
hurried  after  them,  guided  by  their  barking,  and  usually 
found  them  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  in  which  old  bruin 
had  taken  refuge. 

He  took  careful  aim,  fired,  and  the  great  creature 
would  come  tumbling  to  the  ground,  sometimes  dead — 
usually  wounded.  Then  while  the  hunter  was  reload- 
ing his  gun  the  nimble  dogs  would  beset  the  enraged 


A    BEAR    HUNTER. 


169 


animal,  biting  it  here  and  there  but  keeping  out  of  the 
way  of  its  sharp  teeth  and  strong  paws. 

If  the  bear  was  small  the   dogs  would   not  give  it   a 


A    BEAR   HUNT. 


chance   to   climb   a  tree,   but   would   attack  and  pull  it 
down    before    their  master   came  up.      In   that  case  he 


170  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

would  slip  up  quietly,  put  the  muzzle  of  the  gun  against 
the  bear  and  shoot,  or  draw  his  hunting  knife  and 
plunge  it  into  his  prize. 

He  then  went  home,  marking  the  trees  with  his  toma- 
hawk so  that  he  could  find  his  way  back  with  horses 
and  men.  The  skin  was  dressed  and  the  choice  parts  of 
the  flesh  were  dried  or  salted  down  for  food. 

The  bear  often  led  the  dogs  and  men  a  hard  chase 
through  the  thick  cane  and  underbrush,  and  a  faint- 
hearted hunter  would  call  off  his  dogs  in  despair. 
Crockett  rarely  gave  up.  Occasionally  he  followed  the 
game  so  far  that  he  had  to  stay  out  in  the  woods  alone 
all  night. 

Once  after  a  long  chase  he  succeeded  in  killing  a  bear 
in  the  dark  with  his  hunting  knife  after  a  hard  tussle. 
Then  he  spent  the  rest  of  the  night  in  climbing  a  tree 
and  sliding  down  it  to  keep  from  freezing  to  death. 

In  the  winter  time  the  bears  go  into  winter  quarters. 
They  usually  choose  some  place  very  hard  to  reach, 
like  a  hole  in  a  dense  canebrake  or  a  hollow  tree. 
Then  the  dogs  worry  them  out  of  their  snug  quarters  to 
some  place  where  the  men  can  shoot  and  handle  them 
conveniently. 

Colonel  Crockett  did  not  spend  all  his  time  hunting 
bears  in  the  cane.  He  was  engaged  in  numerous  enter- 
prises to  increase  his  wealth;  but  none  of  them  was  suc- 
cessful. Once  he  tried  to  make  some  money  by  taking 
two  boat  loads  of  staves  down  the  Mississippi  to  market. 


A    CONGRESSMAN.  I7I 

But  his  men  were  unacquainted  with  the  river.  They 
could  not  manage  the  big  boats.  They  had  an  accident, 
and  Crockett  lost  his  boats  and  his  staves. 


IX. — A  Congressman. 

David  Crockett  had  gone  into  the  wilderness  to  get  a 
new  start.  He  was  not  the  man  to  lie  around  and  wait 
for  a  job  to  turn  up.  He  was  poor  and  must  earn  a 
living.  As  he  was  a  good  hunter  he  found  a  hunting 
ground  and  went  to  work.  He  did  it  simply  and  natur- 
ally, without  any  idea  of  attracting  attention  by  it. 

But  this  move  made  him  more  prominent  than  ever. 
People  remembered  the  odd  man  who  could  tell  such 
sound  truths  in  such  laughable  stories  and  usually  had 
his  way  and  gained  his  point  with  a  joke.  When  they 
asked  what  had  become  of  him  they  were  told  that  he 
was  "hunting  bears  out  in  the  cane."  Then  followed 
thrilling  stories  of  his  narrow  escapes  and  the  great 
bears  he  had  taken.  When  he  went  to  market  to  sell 
his  skins  people  crowded  around  to  see  them  and  to 
hear  his  stories. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  his  friends  wanted  to  send  him 
a  second  time  to  the  legislature.  The  opposing  candi- 
date was  a  man  of  some  wealth  and  culture  known  as 
Dr.  Butler.  He  lived  in  a  frame  house,  and  in  his  best 
room  had  a  carpet  which  covered  the  middle  part  of  the 
floor. 


172 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


The  pioneers  of  that  region  had  never  seen  a  carpet 
and  were  ignorant  of  its  use.  One  day  the  doctor  in- 
vited some  of  them,  whose  votes  he  hoped  to  get,  to 
come  in  for  a  friendly  talk.  They  accepted  his  invita- 
tion, but  could  hardly  be  persuaded  to  set  their  feet  on 
the  wonderful  carpet.  They  soon  went  away  in  no 
pleasant  humor. 

''That  man  Butler,"  they  said,  "called  us  into  his 
house  and  spread  down  one  of  his  finest  bed  quilts  for  us 
to  walk  on.  He  only  wanted  to  make  a  show.  Do  you 
think  we'll  vote  for  him  ?  Not  much  !  Davy  Crockett's 
the  man  for  us.  He  ain't  a  bit  proud.  He  lives  in  a 
log  cabin  without  any  glass  for  his  windows,  and  with- 
out any  floor  but  the  dry  ground.  He's  the  best  hun- 
ter in  the  world,  and  a  first-rate  man  all  round.  We'll 
vote  for  him." 

And  so  the  man  of  the  people  carried  the  day.  At 
the  election  he  had  a  majority  of  two  hundred  and  forty- 
seven  votes — and  this  was  a  great  victory  in  that  sparsely 
peopled  district. 

His  friends  were  now  so  proud  of  their  "bear- 
hunter  from  the  cane  "  that  they  wanted  to  send  him 
to  Washington  to  represent  them  in  the  national  Con- 
gress. 

The  first  time  he  ran  for  that  office  he  was  defeated. 
He  was  bitterly  disappointed.  But  he  did  not  lose  con- 
fidence in  himself  or  in  his  friends.  He  said  the  elec- 
tion had  been  conducted  unfairly.     When  the  time  for 


A   CONGRESSMAN. 


^7?> 


the  next  Congressional  election  came  around  he  tried 
again. 

Crockett  had  two  opponents,  Colonel  Alexander  and 
General  Arnold.  Each  was  more  afraid  of  the  other 
than  of  Crockett.  On  one  occasion  all  three  had  to 
make  speeches.  Crockett  spoke  first  and  made  a  short, 
witty  speech.  Colonel  Alexander  then  made  a  long 
political  speech.  When  Arnold  spoke  he  made  no  ref- 
erence to  Crockett's  speech,  but  discussed  all  the  points 
made  by  Alexander.  While  he  was  speaking  a  flock  of 
guinea-fowls  came  near  and  made  such  a  noise  that  he 
stopped  and  asked  that  they  be  driven  away.  When  he 
had  finished,  Crockett  went  up  to  him  and  said  in  a  loud 
voice:  "Well,  Colonel,  I  see  you  understand  the  lan- 
guage of  fowls.  You  did  not  have  the  politeness  to 
name  me  in  your  speech,  and  when  my  little  friends,  the 
guinea  fowls,  came  up  and  began  to  holler  '  Crockett, 
Crockett,  Crockett !'  you  were  ungenerous  enough  to 
drive  them  away." 

This  amused  the  spectators  very  much,  and  they 
went  away  laughing  and  talking  about  Crockett's 
cleverness,  and  all  forgot  the  long  speeches  of  the  other 
candidates. 

On  election  day  Crockett  was  chosen  by  a  large 
majority  to  represent  one  hundred  thousand  people  in 
our  national  Congress. 

His  fame  had  gone  before  him  to  the  capital  and  he 
found  himself  the  center  of  observation.     He  had  too 


j^i  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

much  self-respect  to  feel  uncomfortable  or  shy  in  his  new 
surroundings.  He  was  himself  under  all  circumstances, 
and  did  not  affect  the  manners  of  others.  He  saw 
that  he  differed  from  the  men  about  him  in  many  ways; 
but  what  of  that?  Their  manners  suited  their  lives  and 
were  the  outgrowth  of  their  habits;  they  were  like  the 
people  they  represented.  His  manners  suited  his  life; 
they  were  the  outgrowth  of  his  habits;  he  was  like  the 
people  he  represented.  He  had  nothing  to  be  ashamed 
of     On  the  contrary,  he  was  proud  of  himself. 

However,  when  the  president  of  the  United  States 
invited  him  to  dinner,  the  thought  occurred  to  him  that 
the  table-manners  of  a  huntsman,  used  to  dining  on  a 
log  in  the  forest,  might  not  fit  the  presidential  dining 
table.  But  he  decided  to  watch  the  others  and  "  go 
ahead." 

Of  course  the  newspapers  made  a  great  many  jokes 
about  the  uncouth  manners  of  the  backwoodsman  and 
held  him  up  for  ridicule.  But  most  of  the  jokes  were 
made  in  the  spirit  of  fun  and  only  served  to  whet  the 
curiosity  of  the  readers,  and  make  them  wish  to  know 
more  of  the  "gentleman  from  the  cane,"  as  he  was 
called. 

At  the  close  of  his  first  term  Crockett  was  re-elected. 
This  time  he  gave  the  newspapers  more  to  talk  about 
than  his  bad  manners.  He  had  been  sent  to  Congress 
by  a  people  who  regarded  Andrew  Jackson  as  their 
hero.      Crockett  had  served  under  Jackson  in  the  Indian 


A   TRAVELER. 


^7S 


wars  and   had  been  a  Jackson  man.     But  when  Jackson 
was  elected  president,  Crockett  did  not  think  some  of 
his  measures  right  and  voted  against 
them.     He  knew  this   would  displease 
most  of  the  men  who  had  sent  him  to 
Congress,  but  he  said  he  would  not  be 
bound    by    any  man    or  party   to    do 
what  he  thought  was  wrong.      By  this 
time  he  was  well  acquainted  with  pub- 
lic questions,   and  had  strong  convic-     ^^^orew  jackson 
tions  as  to    his    duty.      He  was  inde- 
pendent of  parties  and  men  in  his  views. 

He  was  a  candidate  for  the  next  election,  but  his 
turning  against  Jackson  had  made  him  so  unpopular 
that,  much  to  his  disappointment,  he  was  defeated. 


X. — A  Traveler. 


After  two  years  more  of  hunting  in  the  backwoods, 
David  Crockett  was  again  returned  to  Congress  by  his 
district.  It  was  during  this  term  that  he  made  his 
famous  tour  of  the  northeastern  states. 

He  started  in  the  spring  of  1834  and  visited  most  of 
the  large  cities.  On  this  trip  he  saw  a  train  of  railroad 
cars  for  the  first  time.     This  is  his  description  of  it: 

'*This  was  a  clean  new  sight  to  me  ;  about  a  dozen 
big  stages  hung  to  one  machine,  and  to  start  up  hill. 


176 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


After  a  good  deal  of  fuss  we  all  got  seated  and  moved 
slowly  off;  the  engine  wheezing  as  if  she  had  the  tiz- 
zick.  By  and  by  she  began  to  take  short  breaths,  and 
away  we  went  with  a  blue  streak  after  us.  The  whole 
distance  is  seventeen  miles  and  it  was  run  in  fifty-five 
minutes." 

Crockett  received  a  warm  welcome  at  Philadelphia. 
Thousands  of  people  were  at  the  wharf  to  meet  him. 
When  he  stepped  from  the  boat  he  was  greeted  with 
cheers  and  the  waving  of  hats.  Men  came  forward 
with  outstretched  hands,  saying:  "Give  me  the  hand 
of  an  honest  man." 

Colonel  Crockett  was  not  a  modest  man,  but  he  was 
surprised  and  a  little  overcome  by  this  reception.  They 
put  him  into  a  fine  carriage  drawn  by  four  horses,  and 
drove  him  to  a  hotel.  There  was  another  crowd  there, 
calling  for  a  speech.  He  was  so  surprised  that  he  could 
not  make  a  long  speech  then,  but  after  a  few  pleasant 
remarks  he  promised  the  people  to  talk  to  them  on  the 
following  day  if  they  cared  to  hear  him. 

He  received  calls  from  many  distinguished  citizens. 
On  the  next  day,  when  he  stood  before  a  vast  crowd 
and  looked  into  the  expectant,  friendly  faces,  he  felt 
abashed  for  a  moment.  But  some  one  shouted:  "Go 
ahead,  Davy  Crockett."  The  sound  of  his  old  watch- 
word gave  him  courage  and  he  went  ahead  and  made  a 
speech  that  did  liini  credit. 

Some  of  the  citizens  presented  him  with  a  watch  chain 


A   TRAVELER.  I77 

and  seal.  On  the  seal  were  engraved  two  race  horses  at 
full  speed.  Above  them  were  the  words  ''Go  ahead." 
The  young  Whigs  of  Philadelphia  gave  him  a  fine 
rifle. 

He  was  received  with  great  kindness  in  New  York 
and  Boston,  where  he  was  invited  to  banquets  made  in 
his  honor,  and  taken  around  to  see  the  sights  of  those 
great  cities.  At  each  of  the  places  he  made  short 
speeches,  greatly  to  the  entertainment  of  his  hearers. 
Harvard  University  had  recently  conferred  the  degree 
of  LIv.  D.  upon  President  Jackson  ;  and  when  Crockett 
was  in  Boston,  he  was  invited  to  pay  a  visit  to  that 
famous  seat  of  learning. 

"There  were  some  gentlemen,"  he  says,  "who  invited 
me  to  go  to  Cambridge,  where  the  big  college  or  univer- 
sity is,  where  they  keep  ready-made  titles  or  nicknames 
to  give  to  people.  I  would  not  go,  for  I  did  not  know 
but  they  might  stick  an  LL^.D.  on  me  before  they 
let  me  go.  .  .  .  Knowing  that  I  had  never  taken  any 
degree,  and  did  not  own  to  any — except  a  small  degree 
of  good  sense  not  to  pass  for  what  I  was  not — I  would 
not  go  it.  There  had  been  one  doctor  made  from  Ten- 
nessee already,  and  I  had  no  wish  to  put  on  the  cap  and 
bells.  I  told  them  that  I  would  not  go  to  this  branding 
school  ;  I  did  not  want  to  be  tarred  with  the  same  stick  ; 
one  dignitary  was  enough  from  Tennessee." 

Crockett  was  astonished  at  the  comfort  and  elegance 
of  the  homes  of  the  eastern  people,  especially  in  New 


178  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

England  where  the  land  was  so  poor.  For  he 
was  nsed  to  measuring  people's  wealth  by  the  rich- 
ness of  their  land.  The  extensive  shipping  business 
of  the  coast  cities  was  new  to  him  and  filled  him  with 
wonder. 

His  eyes  were  open  to  all  that  was  strange  or  new. 
He  noticed  the  New  York  fire  department,  which  was  a 
great  improvement  on  the  bucket  system  to  which  he 
was  accustomed.  On  visiting  the  blind  asylum  he  was 
astonished  to  find  that  the  blind  were  taught  to  read. 
Even  the  distribution  of  work  seemed  strange.  It 
looked  ver}^  queer  to  him  to  see  New  England  women 
working  in  the  factories  and  New  England  men  milk- 
ing cows. 

Crockett  visited  several  other  cities.  He  found  friends 
wherever  he  went,  and  he  always  left  more  than  he 
found.  He  had  many  warm  sympathizers  and  admirers 
in  the  northeast  because  of  the  stand  he  had  taken 
against  f*resident  Jackson. 

Some  people  were  curious  to  see  him  because  they 
had  heard  so  much  about  him.  He  did  not  disappoint 
the  curious.  He  could  shoot  as  wonderfully  as  rumor 
had  reported.  His  stories  were  as  ludicrous  and  his 
grammar  was  as  bad  as  any  one  had  imagined.  But  at 
the  same  time  his  sense  and  sincerity  won  the  good  will 
and  respect  of  those  who  laughed. 

He  went  back  to  Washington  pleased  with  the  East 
and  the  eastern  people,  and  well  satisfied  with  himself. 


A    DARING    ADVENTURER.  179 

At  the  close  of  the  session  he  returned  to  his  Tennessee 
cabin  to  work  for  his  re-election,  proud  of  the  honors  he 
had  received  and  sure  of  more  to  come. 


XL— A  Daring  Adventurer. 

David  Crockett  was  greeted  at  all  the  large  towns  he 
passed  through  by  crowds  of  people.  They  always 
wanted  a  speech  and  he  was  always  ready  to  make  one; 
for  his  head  was  full  of  ideas  on  public  questions.  He 
said  some  wise  things.  Men  called  him  a  great  man 
and  said  he  would  be  president  some  day.  No  doubt  he 
thought  that  they  were  right.  But  in  the  meantime  a 
seat  in  Congress  was  worth  working  for  and  much  more 
certain. 

He  made  tours  of  his  district,  speaking  to  the  people 
more  earnestly  than  ever  before.  Though  he  knew 
that  his  enemies  were  working  hard  against  him  he  felt 
sure  of  success.  When  the  news  came  that  he  was 
defeated,  he  was  almost  crushed  with  disappointment. 
He  was  so  deeply  interested  in  politics,  and  so  much 
better  fitted  for  the  position  than  ever  before.  It  seemed 
cruel  that,  just  at  the  time  he  felt  most  ready  to  help 
and  be  of  real  use,  his  services  should  be  rejected. 

Hunting  had  lost  its  charm.  He  could  not  stay  in 
the  wilderness  doing  nothing.  There  was  a  war  in 
Texas.     The  people  were  trying  to  throw  off  the  gov- 


l8o  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

ernment  of  Mexico.  There  was  a  field  for  action  and 
glory.  David  Crockett  resolved  to  go  to  Texas  and 
help  the  people  in  their  struggle  for  freedom. 

He  arrayed  himself  in  a  new  deerskin  hunting  suit 
and  a  fox-skin  cap  with  the  bushy  tail  hanging  down 
behind.  He  was  well  armed  with  tomahawk,  hunting 
knives,  and  his  new  rifle.  His  good  wife  in  the  dreary 
cabin  bade  farewell  to  her  hero  with  tears.  Her  heart 
was  full  of  regret  for  his  past  disappointment  and  full  of 
fears  for  his  future  success.  But  he  had  not  lost  his 
happy  faculty  of  turning  his  back  on  bad  luck  and 
going  ahead.  New  sights  soon  made  him  forget  the 
family  parting,  and  even  the  bitterness  of  defeat  wore 
off  as  he  pressed  forward,  hoping  for  new  and  greater 
honors  and  victories. 

He  stopped  for  two  or  three  days  at  Little  Rock, 
Arkansas,  where  he  was  treated  with  great  cordiality. 
A  feast  was  made  in  his  honor  and  when  he  left  the 
town  a  company  of  men  rode  with  him  fifty  miles.  He 
rode  across  the  country  to  Fulton,  on  the  Red  River, 
where  he  took  a  steamboat  for  the  village  of  Natch- 
itoches. 

On  the  boat  he  met  a  curious  vagabond  who  was 
gambling  in  a  small  way  and  winning  money  from  the 
I)assengers  by  a  game  that  he  played  with  a  thimble  and 
some  peas.  He  played  this  game  so  constantly  that 
Crockett  gave  him  the  name  of  Thimblerig. 

Any    one     else     in     Crockett's    position    would     have 


A   DARING    ADVENTURER.  l8l 

scorned  this  trifler.  But  he  was  pleased  with  the  fel- 
low's wit  and  good  nature.  He  learned  his  history  of 
idleness  and  wrong-doing,  and  persuaded  him  to  go 
with  him  to  Texas  and  at  least  die  better  than  he  had 
lived. 

At  Natchitoches  he  met  a  handsome  young  man  with 
a  free,  graceful  bearing  and  a  clear,  ringing  voice.  He 
said  that  he  was  a  bee  hunter  and  had  been  over  the 
Texas  prairies  many  times.  He  wanted  to  go  to  the 
war,  and  hearing  that  Crockett  was  going  had  come  to 
join  him. 

The  three  men,  well  mounted  on  prairie  mustangs, 
left  Natchitoches  in  good  spirits.  They  told  stories,  or 
the  bee  hunter  sang  spirited  songs,  as  they  rode  along. 
The  country  was  new  to  Crockett,  and  full  of  interest. 
Canebrakes,  loftier  than  those  'Hhe  gentleman  from  the 
cane"  was  accustomed  to,  crossed  their  way.  In  one 
place  they  rode  through  an  avenue  of  cane,  wide  enough 
for  two  horses.  The  tall,  slender  rods  of  cane,  each  as 
long  and  slim  as  a  fishing  pole,  fell  towards  each  other  at 
the  top,  making  an  arched  roof  that  completely  shut  out 
the  sun  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  Wolves,  wild  turkeys, 
and  droves  of  wild  horses  roused  the  instinct  of  the 
hunter.  Crockett  longed  to  have  a  buffalo  hunt,  but 
the  bee  hunter  told  him  he  would  surely  get  lost  if  he 
attempted  it. 

One  noon  as  the  travelers  were  resting  in  the  shade  of 
one  of  the  little  clumps  of  trees  that  dotted  the  great 


l82 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


prairies,  David  Crockett  said  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  have  a  buffalo  hunt.  The  bee  hunter  said  he  thought 
they  ought  not  to  separate,  and  Thimblerig  shook  his 
head  solemnly  as  he  played  with  his  thimbles  and  peas 
on  the  top  of  his  old  white  hat.  Suddenly  the  bee 
hunter  sprang  from  the  ground,  where  he  had  been 
lying  gazing  at  the  blue  sky,  jumped  upon  his  mustang, 

and  without  a  word 
started  off,  leaving  his 
companions  in  wonder. 
He  had  seen  a  bee,  and 
forgetting  his  advice  to 
Crockett,  had  started 
off  in  quest  of  its  hive. 
While  his  deserted 
companions  were  talk- 
ing over  his  strange 
conduct  they  heard  a 
low  rumbling.  The  sound  grew  louder  and  the  earth 
trembled.  Tlie  two  men  seized  their  weapons  and 
sprang  to  their  horses.  A  herd  of  five  hundred  buffaloes 
came  careering  towards  them  with  the  speed  of  the 
wind  and  the  sound  of  thunder. 

The  leader  of  the  herd  was  an  immense  fellow  with 
long  mane  almost  sweeping  the  ground,  and  stout,  bony 
horns  ready  to  bear  down  everything  that  came  in  his 
way. 

"I   never  felt  such  a  desire  to  have  a  crack  at  any- 


A   BUFFALO  BUJLL. 


A    DARING    ADVENTURER.  183 

thing  in  my  life,'^  says  Crockett.  "The  big  bufialo 
drew  nigh  to  the  place  where  I  was  standing.  I  raised 
my  beantiful  Betsey  to  my  shoulder  and  blazed  away. 
He  roared,  and  suddenly  stopped.  Those  that  were 
near  him  did  likewise.  The  commotion  caused  by  the 
impetus  of  those  in  the  rear  was  such  that  it  was  a 
miracle  that  some  of  them  did  not  break  their  heads  or 
necks.  The  leader  stood  for  a  few  moments  pawing  the 
ground  after  he  was  shot,  then  darted  off  around  the 
clump  of  trees  and  made  for  the  uplands  of  the  prairies. 
The  whole  herd  followed,  sweeping  by  like  a  tornado. 
And  I  do  say  I  never  witnessed  a  sight  more  beautiful 
to  the  eye  of  a  hunter  in  all  my  life." 

Colonel  Crockett  now  realized  that  they  were  escap- 
ing from  him  and  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to 
follow.  He  reloaded  his  gun  and  started  in  full  chase. 
He  rode  for  two  hours,  but  he  could  not  keep  pace  with 
the  fleet  buffaloes.  At  length  he  lost  sight  of  them. 
Then  he  gave  up  and  began  to  think  of  his  friend. 

In  his  attempts  to  go  back  by  a  short  cut  he  lost  his 
way  entirely.  The  country  was  so  fair  and  beautiful 
it  was  hard  to  realize  that  it  was  uninhabited.  But 
Crockett  looked  in  vain  for  signs  of  the  hand  of  man. 
Seeing  that  he  made  no  headway,  he  determined  to  find 
a  stream  and  follow  that. 

He  soon  came  upon  a  herd  of  mustangs.  They  no- 
ticed his  horse  and  began  to  circle  around  it.  The  circle 
of  prancing  horses  grew  ever  smaller  and  smaller  until 


184  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

Crockett  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  the  herd.  His 
pony  seemed  to  like  the  situation  well  enough  and 
frisked  and  played  with  its  new  friends.  Anxious  to 
escape,  Crockett  plied  the  spurs  without  mercy  and  his 
horse  darted  forward  to  the  front  of  the  herd.  A  wild 
race  followed.  Every  member  of  the  herd  strove  to 
overtake  the  stranger,  but  encouraged  by  voice  and 
spur,  Crockett's  mustang  kept  in  the  lead  for  some  time. 
"  My  little  mustang  was  full  of  fire  and  mettle,"  says^ 
Crockett,  "and  as  it  was  the  first  bit  of  genuine  sport 
that  he  had  had  for  some  time,  he  appeared  determined 
to  make  the  most  of  it.  He  kept  the  lead  for  full  half 
an  hour,  frequently  neighing  as  if  in  triumph  and  deri- 
sion. I  thought  of  John  Gilpin's  celebrated  ride,  but 
that  was  child's  play  to  this.  The  proverb  says:  '  The 
race  is  not  always  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the 
strong,'  and  so  it  proved  in  the  present  instance.  My 
mustang  was  obliged  to  carry  weight,  while  his  com- 
petitors were  as  free  as  nature  had  made  them.  A 
beautiful  bay  that  had  kept  close  upon  our  heels  the 
whole  way  now  came  side  by  side  with  my  mustang, 
and  we  had  it  hip  and  thigh  for  about  ten  minutes  in 
such  style  as  would  have  delighted  the  heart  of  a  true 
lover  of  the  turf  I  now  felt  an  interest  in  the  race 
myself,  and  determined  to  win  it  if  it  was  at  all  in  the 
nature  of  things.  I  plied  the  lash  and  spur,  and  the 
little  beast  took  it  quite  kindly,  and  tossed  his  head, 
and  neighed,  as  much  as  to  say,    '  Colonel,  I  know  what 


A    DARING    ADVENTURER.  185 

you're  after — go  ahead! ' — and  he  did  go  ahead  in  beauti- 
ful style,  I  tell  you." 

At  last,  however,  the  unburdened  horses  gained,  and 
one  after  another  galloped  past.  Crockett  was  not  able 
to  turn  his  horse  from  the  race  until  they  reached  the 
brink  of  a  river.  Here  the  other  mustangs  leaped  down 
the  bank,  plunged  into  the  swift  stream  and  galloped 
away  on  the  other  side. 

But  Crockett's  horse  seemed  too  tired  for  the  leap. 
It  w^as  utterly  exhausted.  He  relieved  it  of  its  saddle 
and  did  what  he  could  for  its  comfort.  As  evening  was 
coming  on  he  looked  around  for  a  safe  place  to  spend 
the  night.  There  was  a  large  spreading  tree  near 
the  river.  He  began  to  examine  the  tree  to  dis- 
cover its  possibilities  as  a  resting  place.  He  was  inter- 
rupted by  an  angry  growl,  and  was  startled  to  see, 
almost  within  reach  of  his  arm,  a  huge  cougar  glaring 
at  him. 

He  stepped  back  hastily  and  shot  at  the  beast.  The 
ball  struck  the  skull  and  bounded  back,  merely  scratch- 
ing the  skin.  There  was  no  time  for  reloading.  The 
animal  sprang  at  Crockett,  but  he  stepped  aside  and  it 
fell  upon  the  ground.  He  gave  it  a  blow  with  his  rifle. 
The  cougar  turned  upon  him.  He  threw  away  his  gun, 
drew  his  knife  and  stood  ready  to  meet  it  Then  came 
a  desperate  struggle.  He  tried  to  blind  the  creature, 
but  only  cut  its  nose.  He  tripped  on  a  vine  and  fell. 
The  beast  was   upon   him.     It   caught  his   leg.     The 


1 86  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

hunter  grasped  its  tail  and  plunged  his  knife  into  its 
side.  He  tried  to  push  it  over  the  bank.  Man  and 
beast  rolled  down  together.  Fortunately  Crockett  was 
uppermost.  Quick  as  thought  his  knife  was  buried  in 
the  creature's  heart  and  he  was  safe. 

He  looked  at  the  dead  cougar  in  silent  thanksgiving 
for  a  moment,  and  then  returned  to  the  tree.  He  made 
a  bed  in  its  topmost  branches  by  spreading  a  mat  of  the 
moss,  that  hung  from  the  branches,  upon  a  network  of 
twicrs.  He  threw  his  horse-blanket  over  the  moss  and 
had  a  comfortable  bed;  not  a  safe  one,  perhaps,  but  that 
did  not  disturb  him.  He  soon  fell  asleep,  and  did  not 
wake  till  morning. 

In  the  morning  his  mustang  had  disappeared.  The 
thought  of  being  alone  in  that  wild  country,  without 
friend  or  horse,  was  not  pleasant.  While  eating  his 
breakfast  he  heard  the  sound  of  hoofs,  and  looking  up 
saw  a  party  of  fifty  Comanche  Indians  mounted  and 
armed  coming  directly  towards  him.  They  looked  very 
fierce  and  warlike,  but  proved  to  be  friendly.  Crockett 
asked  them  how  they  knew  he  was  there.  They  pointed 
to  his  fire  in  answer.  They  asked  about  the  big  cougar 
that  had  been  wounded  so  many  times.  When  they 
heard  the  adventure  they  said,  "good  hunter,"  invited 
Crockett  to  join  their  tribe,  and  gave  him  a  horse. 
He  told  tliem  he  could  not  stay  with  them,  but 
would  be  glad  to  travel  in  their  company  as  far  as  the 
Colorado  River. 


A    DARING    ADVENTURER.  187 

Before  they  had  gone  far,  they  saw  a  herd  of  mustangs. 
One  of  the  Indians  rode  towards  them  swinging  his 
lasso.  All  fled  but  one  little  fellow.  It  stood  still  and 
ducked  its  head  between  its  legs.  It  was  easily  taken 
and  was  found  to  be  Crockett's  horse.  He  was  aston- 
ished, and  wondered  why  it  had  allowed  itself  to  be 
caught.  The  Indians  explained  that  a  mustang  never 
forgets  the  shock  of  being  thrown  by  a  lasso  and  is 
so  much  afraid  of  one  afterwards  that  it  will  never 
run  from  it.  While  on  the  march  they  saw  many 
buffaloes  and  Crockett  had  the  good  fortune  to  shoot 
one. 

When  they  were  nearing  the  river  the  alert  Indians 
noticed  a  thin  blue  line  of  smoke  curling  up  against  the 
sky  from  a  clump  of  trees.  The  whole  party  dashed  to 
the  spot.  Whom  should  they  find  but  Thimblerig 
playing  his  foolish  game  ? 

"  The  chief  shouted  the  war  whoop,"  says  Crockett, 
"and  suddenly  the  warriors  came  rushing  in  from  all 
quarters,  preceded  by  the  trumpeters  yelling  terrifically. 
Thimblerig  sprang  to  his  feet  and  was  ready  to  sink 
into  the  earth  when  he  beheld  the  ferocious-looking  fel- 
lows that  surrounded  him.  I  stepped  up,  took  him  by 
the  hand,  and  quieted  his  fears.  I  told  the  chief  that 
he  was  a  friend  of  mine,  and  I  was  very  glad  to  have 
found  him,  for  I  was  afraid  that  he  had  perished.  I  now 
thanked  the  chief  for  his  kindness  in  guiding  me  over 
the  prairies,  and  gave  him  a  large  bowie-knife,  which 


1 88  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

he  said  he  would  keep  for  the  sake  of  the  brave  hunter. 
The  whole  squadron  then  wheeled  off  and  I  saw  them 
no  more." 

Thimblerig  explained  that  soon  after  Crockett  had  left 
him  the  bee  hunter  had  comeback  with  a  load  of  honey, 
and  thinking  that  Crockett  was  lost,  they  had  started  on 
to  Texas  without  him. 

While  they  were  talking  the  bee  hunter  arrived, 
bringing  a  fine  turkey  for  supper.  The  three  were  glad 
to  be  together  once  more  and  went  to  work  with  a  will 
to  prepare  a  good  supper.  Thimblerig  plucked  the 
feathers  from  the  turkey;  Crockett  made  forked  stakes, 
which  he  erected  on  either  side  of  the  fire,  and  sharpened 
a  long  stick.  This  was  thrust  through  the  bird  and 
suspended  on  the  forked  stakes  so  that  the  turkey  might 
be  turned  and  browned  evenly.  The  bee  hunter  brought 
fresh  water  and  made  coffee,  and  they  had  a  merry 
feast. 


XII. — ^A  Hero  of  the  Alamo. 

These  three  men  were  shortly  afterward  joined  by 
three  others,  who  were  going  to  the  war.  They  were 
glad  to  have  company,  for  they  were  getting  so  near  the 
scene  of  war  that  they  were  in  danger  of  meeting  parties 
of  Mexican  scouts. 

They  were  all  bound  for  the  fortress  of  Alamo,  just 
outside   of    the    town  of    Bexar,    on  the   San  Antonio 


A    HERO    OF    THE    ALAMO.  1 89 

River.  They  kept  on  the  lookout  for  the  enemy,  but 
did  not  encounter  any  until  the  last  day  of  their  journey. 
When  within  twenty  miles  of  San  Antonio  they  were 
attacked  by  fifteen  armed  Mexicans.  They  dismounted 
and  stood  back  of  their  horses.  From  that  position  they 
returned  the  fire  of  their  assailants  with  such  effect  that 
the  party  scattered  and  fled.  They  then  went  on  their 
way  without  being  further  molested. 

They  were  received  at  the  fortress  with  shouts  of  wel- 
come. The  bee  hunter  was  known  and  admired  by 
many  of  the  garrison,  and  all  had  heard  of  Colonel 
Crockett.  Thimblerig,  too,  though  unknown,  was 
warmly  welcomed. 

The  town  of  Bexar,  which  is  now  known  as  San 
Antonio,  was  at  that  time  one  of  the  most  important 
places  in  Texas.  It  had  about  twelve  hundred  inhabit- 
ants, nearly  all  of  whom  were  Mexicans  or  of  Mexican 
descent.  It  was  held  by  a  small  band  of  Texan  rangers, 
most  of  these  being  adventurers  from  the  United  States. 
Through  the  influence  of  such  adventurers  the  Texans 
had  declared  their  independence  of  Mexican  rule  and 
had  set  up  a  government  of  their  own.  This  had  of 
course  brought  about  a  war;  the  Mexican  army  had 
invaded  Texas;  and  the  scattered  people  of  that  great 
territory  were  forced  to  fight  for  their  liberties. 

David  Crockett  was  well  impressed  with  the  *' gallant 
young  Colonel  Travis,"  who  was  in  command  of  the 
fortress,  and  thought  that  he  and  his  little  band  of  one 


190 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


hundred  and  fifty  soldiers  would  be  a  match  for  the  en- 
tire :\Iexican  army.  He  was  glad  also  to  meet  Colonel 
Bowie,  of  Louisiana,  and  hear  his  tales  of  adventure 
and  see  him  handle  his  famous  knife. 

On  the  twenty-third  of  February  the  Mexican  army 
marched  against  San  Antonio.  Their  president,  the 
cruel  Santa  Anna,  was  at  their  head.  The  impossibility 
of  holding  the  town  against  such  a  host  was  apparent. 
The  soldiers  withdrew  to  the  Alamo,  as  the  fortress  was 
called,  and  the  troops  of  Santa  Anna  marched  into  the 
town  carrying  a  red  flag,  to  show  that  no  quarter  would 
be  given  to  those  who  resisted. 

The  little  band  of  patriots  did  not  lose  heart.     They 

raised  their  new  flag — 
a  great  white  star  on  a 
striped  field — over  the 
fort.      While    the    flag 


TllK   ALAMO. 


was  going  up,  the  bee 
hunter  sang:  ''Up  with 
your  banner,  Freedom" ; 
then  the  drums  and 
trumpets  sounded.  Santa  Anna  sent  a  message  to 
Colonel  Travis  demanding  the  unconditional  surrender 
of  the  fort.  He  was  answered  with  a  cannon  shot.  So 
the  siege  of  the  fort  was  begun.  That  night  Colonel 
Travis  sent  a  messenger  to  Colonel  Fanning  asking 
aid.  But,  even  if  the  colonel  had  received  word  in  time, 
he  would  have  been  unable  to  send   assistance   to  the 


A    HERO    OF    THE    ALAMO. 


191 


beleaguered  fortress.  The  little  garrison  must  defend 
themselves  as  best  they  could,  and  with  small  hope  of 
success. 

The  Mexicans  cannonaded  the  Alamo  from  various 
points.  One  morning  Crockett  was  awakened  by  a  shot 
against  the  part  of  the  fort  in  which  he  was  sleeping. 
He  dressed  hurriedly  and  ran  to  the  wall,  gun  in  hand. 
He  saw  that,  opposite  the  fort,  a  cannon  had  been 
charged  and  the  gunner  was  stepping  up  with  lighted 
match. 

Crockett  took  careful  aim,  fired,  and  the  man 
fell.  Another  took  his  place.  Thimblerig,  who  was 
with  Crockett,  handed  him  another  rifle.  The  second 
gunner  met  the  same  fate.  Five  men  tried  in  turn  to 
light  that  cannon.  All  fell  before  the  deadly  fire  of 
Crockett.  The  others  were  seized  with  fear  and  ran  off, 
leaving  the  loaded  cannon.  The  sharpshooters  of  the 
fort  kept  watch,  and  any  one  venturing  within  gunshot 
of  the  fort  had  little  chance  of  escaping. 

There  were  occasional  skirmishes,  as  when  the  mes- 
senger sent  out  by  Colonel  Travis  returned  pursued  by 
the  enemy.  The  bee  hunter  saw  and,  calling  to  some 
of  his  friends  to  follow,  rushed  out  to  help  him. 
The  brave  fellow  succeeded  in  driving  back  the 
Mexicans,  but  he  received  his  death  wound  in  the 
fray. 

Day  by  day,  the  fortunes  of  the  besieged  grew  darker 
and    darker.     There   was  no  hope  of  aid.     Food  and 


jg2  DAVID    CROCKETT. 

water  failed  them.  The  force  of  the  enemy  increased 
constantly,  and  the  attack  upon  the  Alamo  became  more 
and  more  determined. 

David  Crockett  kept  a  journal  of  the  daily  happen- 
ings in  the  fortress.  On  the  last  day  of  February  he 
wrote:  "Last  night  our  hunters  brought  in  some  corn 
and  had  a  brush  with  a  scout  from  the  enemy  beyond 
gunshot  of  the  fort.  They  put  the  scout  to  flight  and 
gut  in  without  injury.  They  bring  accounts  that  the 
settlers  are  flying  in  all  quarters  in  dismay,  leaving  their 
possessions  to  the  mercy  of  the  invader.  Buildings  have 
been  burnt  down,  farms  laid  waste,  and  Santa  Anna 
appears  determined  to  verify  his  threat  to  convert  this 
blooming  paradise  into  a  howling  wilderness." 

On  the  sixth  of  March  the  entire  army  attacked  the 
Alamo.  The  resistance  was  desperate.  When  the  fort 
was  taken  only  six  of  its  defenders  were  living.  Crock- 
ett was  one  of  these.  He  was  found  in  an  angle  of  the 
building  behind  a  breastwork  of  Mexicans  whom  he  had 
slain.  A  frightful  gash  in  his  brow  made  him  look  grim 
and  terrible.  His  broken  musket  was  in  one  hand  and  a 
bloody  knife  in  the  other.  Poor  Thimblerig  was  found 
dead  not  far  from  him.  It  is  said  that  in  this  assault 
upon  the  Alamo  the  Mexicans  lost  more  than  a  thousand 
men. 

The  six  i)risoners  w^re  taken  before  Santa  Anna. 
Crockett  strode  along  fearless  and  majestic.  Santa  Anna 
was  displeased  that  the  prisoners  had  been  spared  so  long. 


A   HERO    OF    THE    AL.AJMO.  193 

He  frowned,  and  said  he  had  given  other  orders  con- 
cerning them.  The  swords  of  his  men  gleamed  and 
they  rushed  upon  the  unarmed  prisoners.  The  daunt- 
less Crockett  gave  the  spring  of  a  tiger  toward  the  dark 
leader,  Santa  Anna.  But  before  he  could  reach  him  he 
had  been  cut  down  by  a  dozen  swords. 

Crockett  had  had  no  thought  of  such  an  ending  of 
his  Texas  expedition.  But  as  the  dangers  had  increased, 
he  expressed  no  regret  that  he  had  come.  He  displayed 
the  utmost  devotion  to  the  cause  of  the  Texans.  His 
last  written  words  were:  "Liberty  and  independence 
forever!"  At  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  not  quite 
fifty  years  old. 

In  studying  the  Hfe  of  this  remarkable  man  we 
must  always  keep  in  mind  the  fact  that  he  had  no 
opportunities  when  a  boy  to  improve  his  mind.  He 
grew  up  among  ignorant  people,  and  knew  but  very  little 
about  the  refinements  of  civilized  Hfe.  He  was  there- 
fore rough  and  uncouth  in  manners,  and  lacked  the 
polish  of  the  gentleman.  He  was  naturally  a  man  of 
strong  character;  and  whenever  he  undertook  to  do  a 
thing  he  devoted  all  his  energies  to  it  and  never  gave 
up  until  he  succeeded.  He  was  very  vain  of  his  own 
achievements,  and  for  this  we  may  pardon  him  when 
we  remember  how  much  he  accomplished  with  so  Httle 
capital. 

In  1834,  less  than  two  years  before  the  tragic  close  of 
his  career,  Crockett  had  written  and  pubHshed  a  highly 


^94 


DAVID    CROCKETT. 


entertaining  history  of  his  own  life.  It  was  full  of 
grammatical  blunders  and  of  misspelled  words,  even 
after  it  had  been  revised  and  corrected  by  his  more 
scholarly  friends;  but  as  the  work  of  a  man  wholly 
without  school  education  it  was  not  discreditable.  On 
the  title  page  of  the  little  volume  was  the  motto  which 
he  had  adopted  as  the  guiding  principle  of  his  life. 
Although  he  may  have  often  failed  to  observe  this 
motto  as  wisely  as  could  have  been  wished,  it  is  well 
worth  repeating  and  remembering.      It  is  this: 

"  I  leave  this  rule  for  others  when  I'm  dead; 
Be  always  sure  you're  right— THEN  GO  ahead!  " 


THE     STORY     OF 
KIT      CARSON 


By    FRANCES    M.    PERRY 


KIT  CARSON, 


KIT  CARSON 

THE   HERO   OF  THE   ROCKIES 


I.  — Preparation. 

One  afternoon,  many  years  ago,  a  slender  youth  was 
sitting  at  work  in  a  dingy  little  harness  shop  in  the 
backwoods  of  Missouri.  He  plied  the  awl  quickly  and 
drew  up  his  stitches  with  energy.  There  were  no 
blunders,  no  halts  in  his  work. 

His  master  cast  a  pleased  glance  at  the  apprentice  and 
left  the  shop.  '  'That  boy  does  get  mightily  interested  in 
his  work,"  thought  he.  But  the  boy  was  not  half  so 
intent  upon  his  work  as  he  seemed  to  be.  It  was  not 
pride  in  the  beautiful  piece  of  harness  he  was  finishing 
that  made  his  blue  eyes  sparkle  so.  His  thoughts  that 
afternoon  were  far  away  on  the  rolling  prairies  and  the 
rugged  slopes  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

Young  Christopher  Carson  had  inherited  a  love  for 
the  wild,  free  life  of  a  hunter.  His  father  had  been  one 
of  the  pioneers  of  Kentucky.  But  the  boy  had  for- 
gotten the  old  Kentucky  home  in  Madison  County, 
where,  in  1809,  he  was  born.     For,  while  he  was  a  baby, 

197 


igS  KIT    CARSON. 

the  family  had  left  it  to  follow  the  wild  deer  to  the  fron- 
tier of  Missouri. 

Mr.  Carson  had  joined  a  settlement  in  Howard 
County.  At  first  the  settlers  had  to  live  in  a  log  fort  for 
protection  from  the  Indians.  Day  and  night,  watch- 
men were  on  the  lookout  for  savages. 

Little  Christopher,  or  Kit,  as  he  was  called,  was 
brought  up  amid  the  excitement  of  hunters'  camps  and 
Indian  raids.  The  wanvhoop  was  as  familiar  to  him  as 
the  sound  of  the  school  bell  was  to  the  little  boys  of  New 
England.  The  bark  of  the  gaunt,  gray  wolf  startled 
him  no  more  than  the  yelp  of  a  stray  dog  frightens  you. 

He  played  hide  and  seek  with  the  squirrels  and  ran 
races  and  practised  "running-high-jumps"  with  the 
wild  deer.  Mounted  bareback  on  his  Indian  pony,  he 
bounded  over  the  prairies  neck  and  neck  with  the 
buflaloes. 

His  teachers  were  sun-browned,  hard-faced  hunters 
and  trappers  who  came  to  the  fort  with  great  bundles  of 
furs.  They  wTre  dressed  in  deer  skins,  and  carried  big, 
fierce-looking  knives  in  their  belts  and  heavy  guns  on 
their  shoulders.  Sometimes  one  or  two  fresh  Indian 
scalps,  tied  to  their  hunting  pouches,  dangled  at  their 
sides. 

They  told  wonderful  stories  of  adventures  with 
Indians  and  wild  beasts.  From  his  earliest  years  httle 
Kit  hstened  to  them  with  wide-eyed  wonder  and  dehght. 
When   they  noticed  his  interest  they  were  amused,  and 


PREPARATION.  IQQ 

let  him  handle  their  hunting  knives,  and  look  at  their 
trophies. 

One  day  when  he  was  a  very  Httle  fellow  one  of  them 
held  his  gun  in  position  and  let  Kit  pull  the  trigger. 
He  was  not  at  all  frightened  by  the  noise  and  flash,  but 
wanted  to  do  it  again  and  yet  again.  After  that  the  one 
wish  of  the  boy's  heart  was  to  know  how  to  use  a  gun. 
He  soon  learned  to  shoot  and  became  a  good  marksman. 

Friendly  Indians  taught  him  many  of  the  mysteries 
of  the  woods.  He  was  quick  to  learn  their  language 
and  could  talk  to  the  Indian  children  in  their  own 
tongue. 

He  was  useful  about  the  fort.  All  felt  that  Kit 
Carson  could  be  depended  on.  He  was  sometimes 
chosen  for  responsible  duties  and  sent  to  the  hilltop  to 
watch  for  hostile  Indians  while  the  men  worked  in  the 
field.  Often  his  signal  gun-shot  carried  timely  warning 
of  coming  danger  to  the  workmen. 

As  he  grew  older  his  interest  in  the  life  of  the 
prairies  and  mountains  increased  and  he  listened  with 
greater  eagerness  to  the  tales  of  the  trappers.  In  that 
way  he  learned  much  about  the  country  and  the  hard- 
ships and  dangers  to  be  encountered  by  those  who  made 
their  hving  in  the  wilderness.  When  listening  to  their 
stirring  stories  he  sometimes  thought  that  the  old 
hunters  had  acted  unwisely,  but  he  was  too  modest  to 
say  so.  He  only  pictured  to  himself  what  he  would 
have  done  had  he  been  in  their  places. 


200  KIT    CARSON. 

As  the  settlements  in  the  neighborhood  increased,  the 
danger  and  excitement  became  less  and  less.  The 
wild  animals  withdrew  with  the  Indians.  The  settlers 
put  aside  the  gun  and  took  up  the  spade  and  the  ham- 
mer. They  lived  more  quietly  and  regularly,  and  pre- 
pared their  sons  to  be  farmers,  smiths,  carpenters, 
saddlers,  and  merchants. 

Mr.  Carson  had  a  large  family  to  support  and  start  in 
life.  When  Kit  was  fifteen  years  old  he  decided  to 
have  him  learn  harness-making.  That  was  a  good 
trade;  then,  too,  it  was  a  work  well  suited  to  a  little, 
nimble  fellow  like  Kit.  Not  far  away  was  a  good 
saddler,  whose  name  was  Mr.  Workman.  He  wanted  a 
boy  to  help  him,  and  was  glad  to  get  such  an  intelli- 
gent, industrious  lad  as  Kit. 

An  agreement  was  made  between  Mr.  Carson  and  this 
man  that  Kit  should  work  for  him  for  two  years.  In 
return  for  his  labor  Kit  would  be  taught  the  trade  and 
receive  his  board.  At  the  end  of  two  years  he  would  be 
free  to  work  for  money.  If  his  master  was  satisfied  with 
his  work,  he  would  offer  him  employment  in  his  own 
shop,  or  give  him  a  good  recommendation  to  some  other 
saddler. 

Kit's  two  years  of  apprenticeship  were  now  nearly 
over.  He  had  been  faithful  and  painstaking,  and  as  a 
result  he  was  a  good  workman.  His  master  was  well 
pleased,  and  he  would  have  no  trouble  to  get  work  if  he 
wanted   it.      Best  of  all,    Kit  was  satisfied.      He  knew 


GETTING   A   START.  20I 

that  he  had  succeeded.  He  had  pleased  others  and  he 
now  felt  free  to  please  himself  "  If  I  have  done  well  in 
this  work  which  I  do  not  like,"  thought  he,  "I  shall 
surely  do  better  in  the  work  I  love." 

He  did  not  intend  to  practise  his  trade,  but  his  time 
had  not  been  wasted.  The  patience  and  self-control 
that  he  had  gained  by  doing  cheerfully  and  thoroughly 
his  unwelcome  duty,  would  help  him  in  whatever  work 
he  should  undertake. 

This  afternoon  while  he  worked  he  painted  the  future 
in  glowing  colors.  When  the  last  stitch  was  taken,  he 
tossed  back  his  long  bright  hair  and  gave  a  sigh  of 
relief  He  got  up  briskly  and  put  the  shop  in  order. 
Then  he  went  to  supper  with  a  light  heart. 


II. — Getting  a  Start. 

At  last  the  long  two  years  of  saddle-making  were  at 
an  end  and  Kit  Carson  was  his  own  master. 

He  seized  the  first  opportunity  to  get  acquainted  with 
the  prairies.  A  party  was  being  organized  to  start  to 
Santa  Fe,  the  capital  of  New  Mexico.  He  applied  to 
the  leader  for  admission.  His  reputation  as  a  hunter 
was  so  good  that  no  objection  was  made  to  his  youth, 
and  he  was  admitted  to  the  party  without  hesitation. 

This  was  in  1826.  At  that  time  there  were  no 
definite  routes  marked  out  for  travelers  on  the  plains. 


;o2 


KIT    CARSON. 


TRAPPERS  CROSSTNC  THK   PI^AINS 


GETTING    A    START. 


203 


The  few  who  crossed  them  tried  to  conceal  rather  than 
mark  their  course.  To  reach  Santa  Fe  the  party 
would  have  to  travel  across  hundreds  of  miles  of  almost 
trackless  prairie. 

The  wildness  of  the  land  gave  them  one  advantage. 
The  country  was  so  abundantly  supplied  with  game 
that  it  was  not  necessary  to  take  many  provisions  for 
the  journey.  Their  rifles  would  supply  them  with  good 
food.  But  wherever  game  was  plentiful  Indians  also 
were  likely  to  be  met  with.  Sometimes  large  companies 
of  them  surrounded  and  overpowered  small  parties  of 
trappers  or  traders,  seized  their  horses  and  goods,  and 
put  the  men  to  death  or  left  them,  without  horse  or  gun, 
to  starve  in  the  wilderness. 

Young  Carson  understood  fully  the  risks  and  dangers 
of  traveling  on  the  plains.  But  he  also  knew  that  with 
proper  care  many  misfortunes  might  be  avoided,  and 
with  courage  and  promptness  others  could  be  overcome. 
The  company  he  joined  was  made  up  of  men  of  experi- 
ence and  courage. 

Could  we  have  seen  that  caravan  of  sun-browned 
huntsmen  winding  across  the  plains  we  should  have 
thought  it  very  picturesque.  The  men  wore  suits  of 
dressed  deerskin  trimmed  in  gaily  dyed  fringes  and  bead 
embroidery.  Every  man  was  well  armed  and  rode  a 
spirited  horse.  Some  led  pack  mules  or  unmounted 
horses.  They  marched  in  single  file  like  the  Indians. 
This  was  a  saving  of  strength.     For  those  who  rode  first 


204  KIT    CARSON. 

broke  the  way  and  a  beaten  path  was  formed  for  those 
ill  the  rear.  Then,  too,  from  such  a  path  the  enemy 
could  tell  nothing  about  the  number  of  riders  in  the 
company. 

At  the  head  of  the  line  rode  the  bugler.  His  merry 
bugle  calls  told  any  members  of  the  party  who  had 
strayed  off  to  hunt  where  to  find  their  comrades.  The 
vouno-  men  awoke  the  echoes  with  Indian  warwhoops 
and  loud  laughter.  An  occasional  gun-shot  announced 
the  untimely  death  of  a  bold  wolf  or  an  unwary  turkey. 
A  few  covered  wagons  closed  the  procession. 

The  watching  Indian  scouts  saw  the  good  horses  and 
longed  to  take  them.  But  they  noted  the  number  of 
men;  they  saw  them  shoot  with  their  terrible  guns;  they 
noticed  what  careful  guard  they  kept  night  and  day; 
and  they  feared  to  attack  them. 

The  party  had  not  been  on  the  march  many  days  be- 
fore Kit  Carson  discovered  that  there  is  another  kind  of 
courage  than  that  required  to  face  Indians.  One  of 
the  men  had  accidentally  shot  himself  in  the  arm.  In 
order  to  save  his  life  the  arm  had  to  be  cut  off.  Kit 
Carson  was  chosen  to  help  in  this  painful  operation.  A 
razor,  a  saw,  and  a  red-hot  wagon-bolt  were  the  only 
instruments  these  rough  surgeons  had.  But  they  did 
their  best.  Kit  did  his  part  with  gentle  firmness. 
The  operation  was  successful  and  the  man  recovered 
rapidly. 

Day  after  day  the  cavalcade  toiled  along  over  the  vast 


GETTING    A    START. 


205 


green  sea  of  grass.  Sometimes  they  followed  an  Indian 
trail  or  a  track  made  by  the  buffaloes.  Again,  they 
launched  out  boldly  over  land  that  the  foot  of  man  had 
never  trod.  They  forded  rivers,  climbed  ridges,  and 
skirted  shady  groves,  but  most  of  their  way  lay  over 
sunny  plains. 

Having  safely  reached  Santa  Fe,  Kit  Carson  made  up 
his  mind  not  to  go  back  to  Missouri.  He  left  his  com- 
rades and  pushed  on 
eighty  miles  to  Taos,  a 
trading  station  for  trap- 
pers. It  was  not  an 
attractive  place.  The 
narrow  streets  lined 
with  mud  huts  offered 
little  encouragement  to 
the  ambitious  youth. 
But  he   met   there   an 

old  trapper  whose  name  was  Kincade.  This  man  liked 
Kit  so  well  that  he  invited  him  to  spend  the  winter 
with  him. 

The  daily  work  of  examining  traps  and  furnishing 
game  for  table  use  did  not  take  all  of  their  time.  But 
Carson  was  never  idle.  He  had  found  a  new  teacher. 
This  friend  could  teach  him  Spanish.  A  knowledge  of 
the  Spanish  language  would  be  useful  to  him  among  the 
Mexicans.  So  he  studied  hard.  Kincade  had  trapped 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and   Kit  learned  all  he  had  to 


A  BEAVER. 


2o6  KIT    CARSON. 

tell  about  the  mountain  passes,  the  climate,  the  haunts 
of  the  beaver,  and  the  friendly  and  unfriendly  tribes  of 
Indians  in  the  vast  unknown  country  to  the  north. 

When  spring  came  Carson  met  with  discouragement. 
He  had  no  money  and  could  get  no  work.  He 
determined  to  go  home,  earn  something  and  start  out 
trapping  on  his  own  account.  He  joined  an  eastward 
bound  party  of  traders  and  started  reluctantly  homeward. 

When  half-way  across  the  prairies,  he  met  some 
traders  going  to  Santa  Fe.  They  engaged  him  to  hunt 
for  them  and  he  gladly  turned  his  steps  back  towards 
the  great  Southwest. 

Again  he  found  disappointment  and  disagreeable 
work.  He  was  engaged  as  teamster,  and  traveled  as  far 
south  as  El  Paso  in  Mexico.  As  the  wagon  joggled 
slowly  along  he  dreamed  of  buffalo  hunts  and  Indian 
lights,  and  made  up  his  mind  that,  come  what 
might,  he  would  not  go  east  until  he  had  tried  the 
hunter's  Hfe. 

Had  he  not  been  very  resolute  he  would  have  gone 
home  llKit  fall,  for  he  could  find  nothing  to  do  but  to 
serve  as  cook  in  the  household  of  Mr.  Young,  a  wealthy 
trai)per.  He  was  nearly  discouraged  that  winter.  He 
used  to  smile  grimly  as  he  watched  the  hand  that  he 
had  hoped  to  see  scalping  Indians  nimbly  peeling  pota- 
toes. When  he  made  a  successful  raid  on  the  rats  in 
the  corn  bin  he  sighed  to  himself  and  said,  ''And  these 
are  i>oor  Kit's  buffaloes  !" 


TRAPPING   IN    CALIFORNIA.  207 

In  the  spring,  seeing  no  chance  to  improve  his 
fortunes,  he  gave  up  hope,  and  for  the  second  time 
started  for  home  with  a  heavy  heart.  A  second  time  he 
met  a  party  bound  for  Santa  Fe.  They  offered  him 
employment  and,  in  spite  of  his  many  disappointments, 
he  retraced  his  steps,  faintly  hoping  that  this  time  he 
would  succeed. 

At  last  fortune  seemed  to  favor  him.  He  was 
employed  as  interpreter  in  an  expedition  to  Chihuahua, 
Mexico.  There  a  man  who  was  going  to  the  copper 
mines  near  the  Rio  Gila  saw  Kit  and  hired  him  to  go 
with  him  as  teamster.  When  he  at  last  got  back  to 
Taos  he  found  the  opportunity  for  which  he  had  waited 
so  long. 


III. — Trapping  in  California. 

While  at  Taos  Kit  Carson  had  seen  many  brave 
trapping  parties  on  their  way  to  the  mountains.  He 
had  urged  every  leader  to  give  him  a  chance  to  show 
what  he  could  do.  But  his  slight  boyish  frame  and 
gentle  voice  and  manner  were  against  him.  The  stal- 
wart Nimrods  of  the  west  were  not  willing  to  have  their 
movements  hampered  by  young  and  inexperienced  men, 
and  poor  Kit  was  repeatedly  refused. 

Now,  however,  Mr.  Young  was  collecting  a  large 
party  to  trap  in  a  neighborhood  of  powerful  and  un- 
friendly   Indians.     The    last    company    he   had    sent    out 


2Q$  KIT   CARSON. 

had  failed,  ha\ang  been  overpowered  by  savages.  Mr. 
Young  knew  that  Carson  was  trustworthy,  brave,  and  per- 
severing. He  knew,  too,  that  he  was  a  good  hunter  and 
a  good  cook.  Such  a  man  would  be  of  use  in  many 
ways  in  his  large  company.  So,  at  last.  Kit  Carson 
was  made  a  member  of  a  real  trapping  company. 

Tliis  company  of  forty  men  under  the  leadership  of 
Mr.  Young  started  in  April,  1829,  on  a  long  and  event- 
ful expedition.  Kit  Carson  was  just  twenty  years  old. 
The  old  hunters  looked  upon  the  "  youngster "  with 
some  disfavor  at  first.  But  that  did  not  mar  his  sat- 
isfaction, for  he  knew  that  he  could  win  their  good 
will. 

On  the  march  and  in  camp  a  careful  guard  was  kept. 
Scouts  were  sent  ahead  of  the  company  to  look  for  signs 
of  Indians.  Sentinels  were  stationed  at  camp,  night 
and  day.  When  the  trappers  reached  Salt  River  the 
scouts  reported  signs  of  the  enemy.  They  soon  discov- 
ered that  they  were  about  to  meet  the  same  Indians 
who  had  attacked  and  killed  the  last  party  of 
trappers. . 

Mr.  Young  concealed  most  of  his  men  in  a  thicket. 
When  the  Indians  saw  the  little  band  with  which  he 
then  advanced  towards  them,  they  rushed  upon  him, 
confident  of  victory.  The  valley  resounded  with  their 
blood-curdling  war\vhoops.  Their  wild  faces,  smeared 
with  war  paint,  were  fearful  to  look  at.  Their  arrows 
gleamed  in  the  sun.     The  trappers  had  seen  Indian  war- 


TRAPPING    IN    CALIFORNIA. 


209 


riors  before.  They  knew  that  one  good  gun  was  worth 
many  bright-pointed  arrows.  But  they  turned  and  fled 
to  the  thicket.  The  Indians  thought  they  were  afraid 
and  followed. 

They  were  close  upon  the  heels  of  the  flying  men. 
Victory  seemed  within  reach.  A  shower  of  arrows  fell 
among  the  bushes.  In 
answer  the  thicket 
blazed  with  gunpow- 
der. The  yell  of 
triumph  was  drowned 
in  the  angry  crack  of 
rifles.  Clouds  of  smoke 
hid  the  scene.  The 
gasp  of  death,  the 
neighing  of  riderless 
horses,  the  click  of  the 
reloading  of  guns,  told 
the  Indians  of  their 
fatal  mistake.  They 
fled  with  haste  and  fear. 
They  left  behind  them 
fifteen  of  their  leading 


TRAPPING  IN  A   MOUNTAIN  STREAM. 


braves,  who  had  fallen  under   the   fire  of  Young's  trap- 
pers. 

The  Indians  were  afraid  to  attack  the  trappers  again. 
But  they  watched  them  from  a  distance,  stole  their  traps, 
and  tried  at  night  to  steal  their  horses. 


210  KIT    CARSON. 

When  the  trappers  reached  the  headwaters  of  the  San 
Francisco  River  in  Arizona,  Mr.  Young  divided  his 
party.  He  sent  the  larger  division  back  to  Taos  to  sell 
the  bea\'er  fur  they  had  taken  and  get  more  traps. 
With  the  remaining  eighteen  he  started  towards  the 
Sacramento  River  in  California.  He  kept  Kit  Carson 
with  his  company. 

They  were  now  traveling  among  friendly  Indians. 
From  them  they  learned  that  the  valley  of  the  Sacra- 
mento was  beautiful  and  fertile  and  full  of  beavers. 
But  they  were  told  that  to  reach  it  they  must  go  through 
a  desert  country  without  grass,  or  water,  or  wood.  No 
deer  or  buffalo  ranged  there,  and  any  man  who  ven- 
tured thither  was  likely  to  die  of  thirst  and  hunger. 

Before  undertaking  this  journey  through  an  unex- 
plored country',  the  party  camped  for  a  few  days.  The 
horses  ate  and  rested.  The  men  hunted.  They  found 
three  deer.  They  smoked  the  meat,  and  sewed  the 
skins  into  water-bags. 

When  all  was  ready  the  little  band  of  eighteen  men 
started  across  the  great  unknown  desert.  A  waste  of 
sand  where  only  the  prickly  cactus  and  the  dull  green 
sage  bush  grew,  stretched  before  them.  All  day  long 
they  traveled  without  water.  When  night  came  the 
leader  gave  each  man  and  animal  a  small  portion  of 
the  water  they  had  brought  with  them.  They  had  no 
fear  of  the  Indians  here.  They  kept  guard,  not  to 
watch    for    red    men,  but    to    see    that     no    accident 


TRAPPING    IN    CALIFORNIA.  211 

befell  the  water,  which  was  more  precious  to  them  than 
gold. 

At  the  close  of  the  fourth  day  the  thirsty  and 
Nveary  riders  were  surprised  to  see  their  mules  stretch 
out  their  necks,  sniff  the  air,  and  quicken  their 
speed.  An  hour's  eager  trot  brought  them  to  a 
stream  of  fresh  water.  They  camped  by  the  stream  for 
two  days.  How  good  it  seemed  to  have  enough  water 
to  drink  ! 

Having  had  a  good  rest  and  recovered  their  strength, 
they  renewed  their  journey  across  the  desert.  At  the 
close  of  the  fourth  weary  day  they  reached  the  Colorado 
River.  They  made  a  comfortable  camp  on  its  banks. 
Some  Mohawk  Indians  sold  them  an  old  horse.  They 
hastily  killed  and  roasted  it,  and  rejoiced  over  a  feast 
of  cold  water  and  tough  horse  flesh. 

The  hard  journey  across  southern  California  was  made 
lighter  by  meeting  with  occasional  streams  of  flowing 
water,  and  after  a  difficult  but  safe  march  the  party 
reached  a  Roman  Catholic  mission  station  in  the  beau- 
tiful, fruitful  valley  of  San  Gabriel.  The  Indians 
around  the  mission  had  been  taught  to  farm.  The  fer- 
tile fields  were  full  of  waving  grain.  The  trees  bent 
under  their  loads  of  fruit.  The  hill-slopes  were  dotted 
with  herds  of  cattle  and  flocks  of  sheep. 

The  hungry  white  men  longed  for  all  these  good 
things.  They  had  little  to  offer  in  exchange  for  them. 
But  prices  were  low  where    there  was   so   much  to  be 


212  KIT    CARSON. 

eaten  and  where  there  were  so  few  to  eat.  Four  butcher 
knives  bought  a  fine  steer. 

The  trappers  had  reached  a  land  of  plenty.  Water, 
grass,  and  game  made  their  lives  happy  once  more.  The 
streams  were  full  of  beavers,  and  as  the  party  journeyed 
slowly  nortli,  down  the  San  Joaquin  River,  their  packs 
of  furs  grew  steadily  larger  and  larger.  The  once 
half-starved  men  grew  fat  and  happy. 

When  the  trapping  season  was  over,  the  party  went 
into  summer  camp  on  the  lower  Sacramento.  They 
spent  the  season  hunting.  Deer  and  antelopes  roamed 
everywhere. 

Kit  Carson's  dreams  were  at  last  fulfilled.  He  had 
shown  his  power  of  endurance.  In  the  long,  hard  march 
across  the  desert  none  had  been  more  patient  and 
uncomplaining  than  "the  new  hand."  Now  he 
could  prove  his  skill  in  hunting.  His  success  was 
astonishing.  He  soon  gained  the  name  among  even 
those  tried  mountaineers  of  the  best  hunter  in  camp. 
Not  only  was  lie  the  best  shot,  but  he  knew  more  about 
the  habits  and  haunts  of  animals  than  others.  He  was 
more  wary  and  cunning  in  approaching  them. 

This  seems  enough  experience  and  reputation  for  a 
twenty-year-old  youth  to  gain  on  one  trip;  but  even 
greater  opportunities  came  to  Carson  on  his  first  trap- 
ping expedition. 

A  priest  of  San  Raphael  sent  to  the  trappers,  asking 
tliem  to  help  his  men  take  some  Indian  evil-doers  who 


TRAPPING   IN    CALIFORNIA.  213 

had  found  refuge  in  a  strong  Indian  village.  Twelve  of 
the  trappers  answered  the  call.  They  chose  Carson 
leader,  and  with  the  priest's  men  advanced  to  the  strong- 
hold of  the  Indians.  The  savages  refused  to  give  up 
the  culprits.  An  attack  was  then  made  upon  their  vil- 
lage, and  they  were  soon  obliged  to  change  their  minds. 
Having  lost  one  third  of  their  men  in  battle  the  Indians 


INDIANS   STAMPEDING   HORSES. 

gave  up  their   friends,  and   Carson   and  his  men  went 
back  to  their  camp  in  triumph. 

Good  fortune  made  the  trappers  careless.  One  night 
they  neglected  to  keep  camp-guard.  While  they  were 
all  asleep,  some  daring  Indians  came  into  the  camp  and 
drove  off  sixty  horses.  When  the  trappers  discovered 
their  loss  they  were  filled  with  regret  and  anger.  How 
could  they  replace  their  horses?     Mr.  Young  decided 


214  KIT    CARSON. 

to  regain  tlu-ni  if  possible.  "We'll  see  what  Kit  Carson 
can  do  with  the  thieves."  he  said.  So  he,  with  twelve 
men,  was  sent  to  recover  the  horses. 

Carson  was  as  clever  in  tracing  an  Indian  trail  as  in 
tracking  the  deer,  and  it  was  not  hard  to  follow  the  path 
of  an  Indian  band  and  sixty  horses  even  among  the  wind- 
ing passes  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas.  As  they  rode  mile  after 
mile  s(^mc  thought  the  chase  hopeless.  Carson  was  not 
the  man  to  fail  where  success  was  possible.  After  a 
hundred  miles  of  mountain  riding,  he  came  upon  the 
thieves  feasting  on  horse  flesh.  They  were  having  a 
good  time  and  had  no  thought  of  danger.  Carson  and 
his  men  made  a  sudden  dash  and  took  them  completely 
by  surprise.  Eight  were  killed  at  the  first  fire,  and  the 
rest  ran  howhng  into  the  woods.  Carson's  party  col- 
lected the  stolen  horses  and  hastened  back  to  camp. 
When  the  other  trappers  saw  them  coming  with  all  the 
horses,  they  expressed  their  joy  in  loud  shouts  of  wel- 
come. 

Kit  Carson  was  now  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  most 
\aluable  men  in  camp.  His  advice  was  asked  on  affairs 
of  imiK)rtance,  and  the  leader  showed  him  many  marks 
of  respect.  Yet  he  was  so  simple  and  modest  and 
pleasant  that  no  one  thought  of  being  jealous  of  the 
young  hero.  Indeed,  they  all  felt  very  proud  of  him, 
and  talked  about  his  adventures  as  proudly  as  if  they 
had  been  their  (nvn. 

The  mission  station  of  San  Raphael  was  not  very  far 


THE    SECOND   EXPEDITION.  21^ 

from  the  camp.  Mr.  Young  was  so  fortunate  as  to  meet 
there  the  captain  of  a  trading  vessel,  who  gave  him  a 
good  price  for  the  beaver  skins  of  the  company. 

In  September  the  trappers  started  home,  trapping  as 
they  went.  Their  homeward  route  was  about  the  same 
as  that  by  which  they  had  gone  to  CaHfornia.  But  they 
spared  themselves  the  hardest  part  of  the  desert  ride  by 
following  the  Colorado  down  to  the  Gila  and  then  going 
up  that  river.  This  was  a  gain  in  more  ways  than  one; 
for  they  trapped  down  the  Colorado  and  up  the  Gila, 
taking  many  skins. 

The  entire  expedition  was  a  success.  Each  member 
of  the  company  got  a  large  sum  of  money  from  it.  No 
one  grudged  Kit  his  share.  But  he  would  have  been 
satisfied  with  much  less.  He  scarcely  knew  what  to  do 
with  so  much  money. 

He  saw  that  his  friends  spent  their  portions  in  drink- 
ing and  gambHng.  He  did  not  care  for  such  pastimes, 
but  he  did  want  to  be  a  trapper  and  do  just  as  trappers 
did.  So  he  imitated  the  bad  habits  of  his  friends  and 
Hved  as  fooHshly  and  wickedly  as  they  did  until  the  fall 
of  1830.     Then  the  money  was  all  spent. 


IV. — The  Second  Expedition. 

Mr.  Fitzpatrick,  a  noted  mountaineer,  was  ready 
to  start  north  with  a  few  comrades  to  take  beaver  in 
the   streams   of   the    Rocky   Mountains.      Carson   joined 


2i6  KIT    CARSON. 

his  company.  He  had  no  trouble  to  gain  admission. 
He  had  made  such  a  reputation  on  his  first  trip  that  he 
was  now  sought  by  many  companies. 

He  was  glad  to  get  away  from  the  rum  dens  of  Taos. 
As  he  bounded  over  the  great  plains  toward  the  wild, 
majestic  mountains,  his  blood  tingled  with  a  real  joy, 
beside  which  the  pleasures  of  his  winter's  debauch  at 
Taos  seemed  low  and  mean.  He  shuddered  with  dis- 
gust to  think  of  it,  and  resolved  never  to  pass  another 
season  as  he  had  spent  the  last. 

The  party  traveled  northward  rapidly,  following  the 
rivers  that  wound  through  the  maze  of  mountains. 
Thev  began  trapping  along  the  head-waters  of  the 
Platte  River  in  what  is  now  WycTming.  They  followed 
the  Sweet  Water  through  the  famous  South  Pass,  and 
trapped  along  the  Green  River.  They  camped  for  the 
winter  on  the  Salmon  River  among  the  fierce  and 
troublesome  Blackfeet  Indians. 

The  next  spring,  Carson  joined  another  company 
with  which  he  worked  his  way  southeast  to  the  head- 
waters of  the  Arkansas.  While  they  worked  there 
cold  weather  came  on,  the  streams  were  frozen  over,  and 
trapping  for  that  season  was  ended. 

The  winter  spent  on  the  Arkansas  was  very  severe. 
The  men  had  plenty  of  food  and  plenty  of  wood  for 
fires.  They  had  warm  blankets,  too,  in  which  they 
wrapped  themselves  Indian  fashion.  But  the  animals 
suffered  from  the  cold.     The  snow  was  deep,  and  they 


THE    SECOND    EXPEDITION. 


217 


had  so  little  to  eat  that  they  grew  thin  and  weak.  The 
merx  cut  the  bark  and  twigs  from  the  sycamore  trees 
and  fed  the  poor  beasts  with  them;  for  there  was  noth- 
ing else. 

One  night  in  January,  fifty 
Crow  Indians  visited  the  camp 
and  stole  nine  horses.  When 
Carson  learned  of  the  deed,  he 
called  to  the  men  to  follow  him, 
and  without  waiting  to  see  how 
many  answered  the  call,  has- 
tened to  saddle  his  horse.  All 
understood  that  he  intended  to 
hunt  for  the  thieves.  Twelve 
rose  to  go  with  him. 

It  was  not  hard  to  find  the 
path  of  the  Indians  in  the  snow. 
But  it  was  hard  to  keep  it;  for 
a  large  herd  of  buffaloes  had 
crossed  and  recrossed  it  until 
in  many  places  it  was  com- 
pletely blotted  out.  The  horses 
were  so  weak  that  after  the 
trappers  had  ridden  forty  miles 
halt.  As  they  were  looking  for  a  good  place  for  a 
camp  they  noticed  smoke  rising  from  a  clump  of  trees, 
and  were  rejoiced  to  find  that  they  had  overtaken  the 
horse-thieves. 


TRAPPING  IN   WINTER. 


they 


were 


obliged 


to 


2l8 


KIT    CARSON. 


Since  their  success  depended  upon  their  ability  to 
surprise  the  Indians,  they  hid  themselves  with  all  haste 
and  waited  for  darkness.  When  night  came  and  they 
ventured  forth,  they  found  the  Indians  dancing  and 
howling  about  a  great  fire.  They  were  making  merry 
because  of  the  way  they  had  outwitted  the  whites. 
There  were  many  of  them  and  they  had  built  two  rude 


^<^j*^ 


THE   INDIANS   DANCING. 


forts.  Since  the  enemy  seemed  so  strong,  Carson 
thought  it  best  to  wait  till  they  had  gone  to  sleep  before 
making  an  attack. 

It  was  a  long  wait  in  the  cold;  for  the  Indians  were 
in  liigh  glee,  and  several  hours  passed  before  they  tired 
of  the  dance.  P,ut  at  length  the  last  one  had  wrapped 
himself  in  a  buffalo  robe  and  lain  down  in  the  fort. 
They  slept  well  after  their  revel  and  were  not  disturbed 


THE    SECOND    EXPEDITION.  219 

by  the  slight  noise  made  by  Carson  and  his  men  as  they 
drove  off  the  horses. 

When  they  had  recovered  the  horses  most  of  the 
trappers  were  satisfied  and  ready  to  return.  But  Carson 
was  not  among  these.  "We  must  not  let  the  rascals  off 
so  easily  this  time  or  they  will  visit  us  agam  soon  he 
reasoned.  The  others  saw  that  he  was  right,  and  that 
if  they  punished  the  Indians  it  would  save  them  much 
future  trouble. 

They  tied  the  horses  in  the  shelter  of  some  trees  and 
went  back  to  the   Indian  camp.     Carson  led  his  men 
around  the  camp  and  approached  it  from  the  far  side,  for 
he  knew  that  they  expected  no  attack  from  that  quarter. 
They    crept   toward   the    camp   with    bated   breath. 
Scarcely  a  twig  snapped,  so  carefully  did  they   move. 
But  a  little  wolf-like  dog  gnawing  a  bone  by  the  hre 
felt  their  presence  and  barked  sharply.     That  waked 
his  fellows  and  every  dog  in  the  camp  began  to  bark. 
The  Indians,  roused  from  their  dreams,  jumped  to  their 
feet  in  fright.     The  breeze  fanned  the  embers  of  the  fire 
into  flame.     The  dark  bodies  of  the  savages  gleamed  in 
the  red  firelight.     Every  trapper  within  gun-shot  chose 
his  man-and  fired.     Six  bullets  whistled  through  the 
keen  air.     Six  Indians  fell  to  the  earth  lifeless.     The 
others  ran  together  into  one  of  the  forts,  and  fired  into 
the   darkness.      The   trappers   were    all   safely   hidden 
behind    trees  and  stones.     They  shot  only  when  they 
were  sure  to  kill. 


J20  KIT    CARSON. 

In  the  morning  the  besieged  Indians  saw  that  they 
were  attacked  by  a  small  party  and  made  a  charge  on 
the  trappers.  In  the  fight  that  followed  many  Indians 
fell  and  some  of  the  trappers  were  slightly  hurt.  After 
a  sharp  struggle  the  Indians  went  back  to  their  forts. 
The  trappers  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  proudly 
home  with  their  recovered  property  and  a  new  story  to 
tell  beside  the  fire  on  stormy  evenings. 

It  was  such  feats  as  this  that  made  the  name  of  Kit 
Carson  a  terror  to  guilty  Indians.  It  is  said  that  they 
would  rather  have  a  troop  of  United  States  soldiers  on 
their  trail  than  Kit  Carson  single  handed. 

During  the  next  season  the  trappers  were  greatly 
annoyed  by  Indians  who  tried  to  steal  their  horses  and 
cut  off  their  men.  Once  when  Carson  with  three  com- 
rades was  returning  from  a  day's  search  for  signs  of 
beavers,  they  fell  into  an  ambush  of  half  a  hundred 
warriors  mounted  and  armed.  Resistance  was  useless. 
Tluir  only  hope  lay  in  flight.  They  had  better  horses 
than  the  Indians,  but  in  a  long  chase  they  would  be 
overpowered. 

They  had  no  time  to  plan,  but  with  one  impulse  fol- 
lowed Carson's  lead.  Instead  of  turning  and  running 
from  his  foes,  as  they  expected,  that  daring  man  dashed 
past  them  with  the  speed  of  the  wind  directly  towards 
the  camp  of  the  whites.  He  and  his  followers  bent 
over  their  horses'  necks  and  the  bullets  of  the  red  men 
whizzed  by  them  without  doing  harm.     The  astonished 


FREE    TRAPPING.  221 

savages  reloaded  their  guns  and  started  in  pursuit,  but 
they  did  not  dare  to  follow  far  in  that  direction. 

The  company  to  which  Carson  belonged  was  large; 
beavers  were  scarce ;  and  all  the  trappers  became  discour- 
aged. Carson  decided  to  leave  the  rest  and  start  out  on 
his  own  account.  Two  of  his  old  friends  accompanied 
him.  His  plan  was  to  trap  only  in  the  head-waters  of 
streams.  The  Indians  were  down  on  the  plains  hunting 
buffaloes,  and  so  long  as  the  little  band  kept  in  the 
mountains  it  was  comparatively  safe. 

After  several  months  of  hard  work  they  returned 
to  Taos  with  heavy  packs  of  furs.  Kit  found  himself 
again  master  of  more  money  than  he  could  spend. 
This  time,  however,  he  did  not  waste  it,  but  placed  it 
in  safe  keeping  and  started  again  for  the  wilderness. 


V. — Free  Trapping. 

Taos  had  no  charms  for  the  brave  young  man  who 
had  made  the  mountains  his  home.  He  was  restless  and 
discontented  there.  He  could  not  sleep  in  the  small 
rooms.  His  food  lacked  flavor.  He  was  impatient  to 
get  to  work  again. 

At  last,  in  the  autumn  of  1832,  a  trading  party  was 
ready  to  go  north.  Carson  joined  it.  He  spent  the 
next  two  years  among  the  mountains,  trading  and  trap- 
ping.     During  that  time  he  attached  himself  to  several 


^22  KIT    CARSON. 

companies  for  a  short  period,  but  most  of  the  time  he 
spent  as  a  free  trapper. 

He  was  a  shrewd  business  man  and  liked  to  trap  with 
only  a  few  comrades.  For  a  few  men  could  take  all 
the'  beavers  in  a  stream  as  quickly  as  a  larger  number 

could    take   them;    and 

illA/  J?'  '     ^*"  J^*^^^^  ^^^^^^  ^^^^  ^^^  ^^  many 

l!r^m^'       "'      -  :-  to  divide  the  profits.  Kit 

-^T^  '**">t  :^  Carson     frequently    left 

>^^-  the    large    parties,    and 

_  with  two  or  three  chosen 

';  friends,  set  forth  on  free 

trapping  expeditions. 

A  BEAVER  DAM.  ^^^^^     ^^rdy    mcH 

would  start  ofif  with  their 

traps  and  a  small  store  of  provisions,  and  ride  rapidly 

tlirough  the  well-known  mountain  passes  to  some  far-off 

stream  not  often  visited  by  white  trappers. 

The  way  was  now  forbidding  and  now  inviting. 
They  scrambled  up  steep,  narrow  ledges;  they  forded 
foaming  mountain  torrents;  they  threaded  their  way 
through  unexplored  forests;  or  they  cantered  over 
sunny  parks,  and  loitered  through  grassy  valleys.  But 
wherever  they  were,  or  whatever  they  did,  they  were 
always  on  the  lookout  for  signs  of  beavers.  The  faintest 
footprint  did  not  escape  their  trained  eyes. 

T1k'>'  followed  the  tracks  to  some  nameless  stream 
which  they  were  sure  to  find  obstructed  by  a  dam  built 


FREE    TRAPPING.  323 

by  that  industrious  animal.  These  dams  were  made  of 
sticks  and  trees  that  the  beavers  had  cut  down  with 
their  sharp  little  teeth.  The  foundation  so  made  was 
well  plastered  with  mud.  In  the  ponds  formed  by  the 
dams  the  beavers  had  built  their  lodges. 

If  the  lodge  was  a  large  one  the  trappers  went  into 
camp   near   by  and   set   their   traps   regularly.      They 
fastened  the  traps  to  stakes  firmly  driven  into  the  bed  of 
the  stream.     The  trap 
was   hidden  under  the 
water.     A  twig  dipped 
in     a    strong-smelling 
mixture    that    beavers 
are  fond  of,  was  stuck  a  beaver  trap. 

in  the  jaws  of  the  trap. 

When  the  beaver  came  to  nibble  at  the  twig  his  foot 
was  sure  to  get  caught  in  the  trap. 

Beavers  are  very  intelligent,  and  after  several  from 
one  family  had  been  caught,  the  others  would  not  go 
near  the  bait.  When  all  the  beavers  possible  had  been 
taken  the  trappers  broke  camp  and  started  on  again  in 
search  of  other  lodges. 

They  traveled  all  day  and  when  night  came  they 
stopped  beside  some  clear,  cool  brook.  One  hobbled 
the  horses;  another  made  a  fire;  another  threw  in  a  line 
for  a  mountain  trout,  or  shouldered  his  gun  and  went 
off  to  try  his  luck  for  game.  When  all  was  ready  they 
sat  around  the  fire.     Each  one  cooked  his  supper  to  suit 


224  ^^"^    CARSON. 

iiiinself.  Meat  was  the  chief  article  of  food,  and  it  was 
iisiially  good,  roasted  and  eaten  while  hot  and  juicy. 
Those  who  were  hicky  enough  to  have  flour,  made 
bread.  Trapper's  bread  was  easily  made.  It  w^as  a 
paste  of  flour,  water,  and  salt,  browned  on  the  end  of  a 
stick  or  fried  in  grease.  The  hungry  men  ate  it  with  a 
relish. 

When  supper  was  over,  they  talked  and  smoked  until 
bed  time.  Then  they  wrapped  themselves  in  their  buf- 
falo-robes and  with  loaded  rifles  at  hand  lay  down  on  the 
cool  earth  and  watched  the  stars  in  the  wide  sky  until 
overcome  by  sleep. 

The  night  was  divided  into  watches,  and  one  man 
kept  guard  while  his  fellows  slept.  Many  an  hour  did 
Kit  Carson  spend  watching  the  stars  moving  across  the 
black  sky,  or  gazing  at  the  dark  towering  mountains 
whose  lofty  snow-capped  heads  gleamed  brighter  and 
brighter  in  the  light  of  the  rising  moon.  The  solemn 
grandeur  of  the  scene  satisfied  him,  and  he  was  some- 
times sorry  when  the  declining  stars  told  him  that  he 
must  rouse  his  comrade  and  take  his  share  of  rest. 

It  was  a  solitary,  dangerous  life,  but  Carson  loved  it 
and  would  not  have  been  willing  to  change  places  with 
a  Xcw  York  banker. 

Sometimes  these  free  trappers  got  so  many  furs  that 
it  was  inconvenient  to  carry  them.  Then  they  chose  a 
point  which  they  intended  to  pass  on  their  return,  and 
made  a  cache.    To  do  this,  they  usually  picked  out  a  dry 


FAIR   AND   CAMP.  225 

bank  of  earth  not  far  from  a  stream.  There  they  made 
a  little  cave.  They  had  to  use  the  greatest  care  to  hide 
every  trace  of  their  work  lest  the  Indians  should  find  it. 
They  cut  the  sod  very  carefully  and  put  it  to  one  side. 
They  laid  some  of  the  top  soil  on  a  buffalo-robe  or 
blanket.  The  rest  of  the  earth  they  carried  off  in  pails 
and  scattered  in  mid-stream.  When  the  hole  was  large 
enough  they  lined  it  with  twigs  and  dry  grasses  and 
then  packed  in  their  furs.  They  covered  them  with 
skins  and  grass  and  rammed  in  the  earth  they  had  saved. 
When  this  was  done  they  watered  the  soil  and  carefully 
replaced  the  turf  So  neatly  was  it  all  done  that  in  an 
hour  or  so  after  the  work  was  finished  a  stranger  would 
not  have  noticed  the  place. 

Having  thus  temporarily  disposed  of  these  furs  they 
went  in  quest  of  more. 


VI. — Fair  and  Camp. 

As  midsummer  approached  the  trappers  revisited  their 
caches  and  opened  them  with  less  care  than  they  had 
made  them.  With  all  their  horses  well  laden  with 
silky  beaver  furs,  they  hastened  to  the  great  trading 
fair  that  was  held  at  some  convenient  place  in  a  large 
trapping  district. 

They  found  the  traders  encamped  in  a  pleasant 
grassy    expanse   dotted   with   trees  and   watered   by  a 


226  KIT   CARSON. 

Strong,  clear  stream.  Rude  lodges  made  of  bark  and 
boughs  nestled  under  spreading  trees.  Tents  of  canvas 
and  tents  of  skins  were  clustered  here  and  there  in  the 
meadows  with  their  camp  fires  before  them. 

In  the  larger  booths  the  traders  spread  out  their 
goods.  Brilliant  blankets,  gaudy  calicoes,  looking- 
glasses,  beads,  and  buttons  lured  the  Indians,  and  they 
gave  in  exchange  for  them  their  rich  beaver  furs,  buf- 
falo robes,  and  bear  skins.  The  trappers  in  large  com- 
panies and  small  companies  brought  in  tons  of  beaver 
skins  and  carried  away  sugar,  flour,  coffee,  rum,  tobacco, 
powder  and  lead,  guns,  saddles,  knives,  and  traps.  It 
took  some  time  to  make  these  trades.  The  trappers, 
red  and  white,  camped  around  the  traders  and  bar- 
gained, and  traded,  and  traded  back  again. 

The  place  presented  an  interesting  scene.  A  squad 
of  Indians  or  of  trappers  rode  into  camp  with  whoop 
and  halloo  and  pitched  their  tents.  Hunting  parties 
went  and  came  at  all  hours  of  the  day.  The  young 
men  practised  target-shooting  and  wrestling.  Old 
bronze-faced  Indians  sat  cross-legged  in  the  sun  before 
their  tents,  smoking  their  long  pipes.  Trappers  lounged 
in  groups  telling  stories  or  playing  cards  and  gambling. 

One  day  a  bragging,  quarrelsome  fellow,  after  some 
ugly  talk  announced  that  he  could  switch  any  Amer- 
ican in  camp.  All  were  displeased,  but  the  quiet,  busi- 
ne.ss-like  Kit  Carson  was  the  first  to  speak.  "Sir,  I  am 
an   American  and    I  demand  that  you  take  back  that 


FAIR    AND   CAMP.  227 

remark,"  said  he.  Every  one  was  surprised.  The  man 
whom  every  one  liked,  the  man  of  few  words  and  great 
deeds,  the  man  who  always  minded  his  own  business 
was  going  to  have  a  fight  with  the  bully  of  the  camp, 
the  man  whom  no  one  liked,  who  said  much  and  did 
little,  the  man  who  attended  to  every  one's  affairs  but 
his  own.  For  a  moment  the  boaster  quailed  before  the 
glance  of  Carson.  But  he  was  large  and  broad 
shouldered,  and  the  man  before  him  was  slight  and 
gentle.  After  a  moment's  hesitation  he  turned  and 
strode  towards  his  tent.     Carson  did  the  same. 

Every  one  knew  what  that  meant.  They  were  going 
for  weapons.  There  was  no  policeman  to  interfere.  No 
one  thought  of  objecting.  They  thought  that  was  the 
proper  way  to  settle  a  quarrel,  and  all  wanted  to  see  the 
affair. 

They  saw  the  boaster,  strong  and  cruel,  rushing  for- 
ward on  his  powerful  horse.  His  loaded  rifle  was  in  his 
hand  and  his  face  was  dark  with  anger.  From  the 
other  direction  rode  Carson,  lithe  and  graceful  as  a  boy. 
A  pistol  was  thrust  in  his  belt.  His  magnificent  horse 
was  at  full  gallop. 

As  he  approached  his  foe  Carson  checked  his  horse 
and  inquired,  "Am  I  the  man  you  are  looking  for?" 
"No,"  answered  the  other,  at  the  same  instant  lower- 
ing his  rifle  at  Carson's  breast.  Carson  heard  the 
word,  but  he  saw  the  act  as  well,  and  understood  its 
meaning.     His  rapid  bullet  pierced  arm  and  wrist  even 


22i^  KIT    CARSON. 

while  the  fingers  were  doing  their  treacherous  work. 
The  ball  intended  for  his  heart  was  thus  swerved  from 
its  deadly  course  and  passed  over  his  head. 

The  friends  of  each  gathered  around.  Carson  was 
cool  and  quiet.  He  had  done  exactly  what  he  wished 
and  expected  to  do.  He  had  saved  his  own  life  and 
given  the  boaster  a  good  lesson  without  kilKng  him. 
IK-  (lid  not  approve  of  quarrels  and  never  Hked  to  speak 
of  this  one. 

When  the  trapj)ing  season  arrived  again,  the  traders 
filled  the  wagons  that  had  brought  provisions  over  the 
plains  with  rich  furs  and  went  back  to  the  states.  The 
trajiping  companies  separated,  and  pushed  again  into  the 
wilderness.  They  had  provisions  to  last  another  season. 
The  lucky  or  prudent  ones  had  some  money  besides. 

In  winter  it  was  again  necessary  for  the  trappers  to 
go  into  camp.  For  the  sake  of  safety  and  society, 
small  bands  like  Kit  Carson's  joined  large  companies  at 
these  times.  The  winter  lodges  were  built  in  sheltered 
valleys,  and,  if  possible,  near  friendly  Indians. 

At  these  times  Carson  Hked  to  visit  the  Indians  and 
talk  with  them  about  their  hunts  and  battles.  He  un- 
derstood the  Indians  and  appreciated  their  good  points. 
In  return  they  liked  the  great  hunter,  who  was  strong 
and  kind  and  without  fear.  He  made  many  lasting 
frien(lshij)s  with  powerful  chiefs. 

But  his  relations  with  the  neighboring  tribes  were  not 
always    so    friendly.      Some    Indians    were    great    horse 


FAIR    AND   CAMP. 


229 


thieves.  Horses  were  very  valuable  in  that  remote 
country,  and  the  trappers  were  dependent  upon  them. 
Great  care  was  taken  of  them.  While  they  grazed  in 
the  day  time  a  guard  was  kept  over  them.  At  night 
their  feet  were  fastened  together  so  that  they  could  not 
run;  or  they  were  securely  tied  to  stakes  driven  in  the 
earth.  When  fastened  to  a  stake  they  were  said  to  be 
picketed.     If  their  feet  _ 

were      tied      together 
they  were  ''hobbled." 

A  prowling  Indian 
band  might  steal  into 
camp  while  all  were 
sleeping,  cut  the  ropes 
that  held  the  horses 
and  lead  them  quietly 
away.     Or  they  might 

create  a  stampede  by  driving  a  herd  of  frightened  horses 
through  a  camp  of  picketed  horses.  The  poor  animals, 
becoming  frantic  with  fright,  would  struggle  until  they 
had  pulled  up  their  stakes.  Then  they  would  gallop  off 
with  the  horses  of  the  Indians. 

When  the  trappers  discovered  their  loss  a  war  party 
was  organized  and  sent  out  on  the  remaining  horses  to 
find  and  bring  back  the  stolen  animals.  Kit  Carson  was 
usually  the  leader  of  these  parties,  and  he  rarely  came 
back  unsuccessful. 

Sometimes   there  were   fearful  struggles  in  the  moun- 


'#^ 


A  HOBBLED  HORSE. 


2^0  KIT    CARSON. 

tains.  For  the  Indians  were  armed  with  guns  and  a 
handful  of  trappers  had  to  fight  a  horde  of  savages.  In 
one  fight  with  the  Blackfeet  Indians,  Carson  was  shot  in 
the  shoulder  while  trying  to  save  the  life  of  a  fellow 
trapper.  The  wound  was  a  painful  one  and  he  suffered 
greatly.  The  weather  was  so  cold  that  the  blood  froze 
on  his  garments.  His  men  made  awkward  but  kind 
nurses.  Any  one  of  them  would  have  given  his  own 
life  to  save  that  of  his  brave  leader.  The  little  band 
went  home  in  sorrow  and  gloom  that  time,  with  no  vic- 
torious shouts  or  recovered  horses.  They  carried  their 
wounded  hero  in  a  hammock-like  litter  made  of  blankets 
fastened  to  poles. 

Carson  had  a  strong  constitution,  and  though  he  had 
received  a  severe  hurt,  was  soon  well  again. 


VII. — Hunting  in  the  Rockies. 

In  the  spring  of  1834,  Carson  took  his  furs  to  a  trad- 
ing post  to  sell  them.  He  found  to  his  surprise  that  the 
price  of  beaver  fur  had  gone  down  and  his  stock  was  not 
worth  half  of  the  money  he  had  expected  to  receive  for 
it.  On  asking  the  reason  he  was  told  that  men's  hats 
were  being  made  of  silk  instead  of  beaver.  This  was 
the  first  time  Kit  Carson  had  ever  been  concerned  about 
the  kind  of  hats  men  were  wearing  in  Paris  and  New 


HUNTING    IN    THE    ROCKIES.  23I 

York.      But  he  saw   now    that  his  business  was  gone. 
He  could  no  longer  make  a  good  living  by  trapping. 

He  started  east  across  the  mountains  at  once.  He 
had  no  notion  of  taking  up  his  old  trade  of  saddle- 
making  or  of  finding  an  occupation 
in  a  settlement.  He  loved  the  moun- 
tains and  the  great  buffalo  plains,  and 
his  purpose  was  to  find  some  work  that 
would  support  him  there. 

When  he  reached  Fort  Bent  on  the 
head  waters  of  the  Arkansas,  he  found  ^beaver^iiai^^ 
that  his  reputation  had  gone  before 
him.  He  received  a  warm  welcome  there.  The  men 
at  the  fort  had  had  trouble  to  keep  a  good  hunter.  On 
learning  that  Carson  had  given  up  trapping,  they 
offered  him  a  fair  salary  if  he  would  stay  with  them  as 
hunter  for  the  fort.  That  suited  him.  He  began  at 
once  and  continued  in  that  ofSce  for  eight  years. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  supply  a  garrison  of  men 
with  game  through  summer  and  winter,  wet  weather 
and  dry,  the  year  round.  The  number  at  the  fort 
was  irregular.  Large  parties  of  rangers,  trading 
caravans,  or  exploring  parties,  sometimes  more  than 
doubled  the  number  to  be  fed.  Tribes  of  Indians  hunt- 
ing in  the  neighborhood  might  make  a  scarcity  of  game 
at  the  time  it  was  most  needed  at  the  fort.  The  garri- 
son had  suffered  much  inconvenience  in  the  past,  but 
Carson  never  failed. 


2T^2  KIT    CARSON. 

He  soon  became  familiar  with  the  country  for  a  hun- 
dred miles  around  the  fort.  When  he  did  not  come 
home  at  night  no  one  worried,  for  all  knew  that  he  could 
take  good  care  of  himself. 

Hunting  wild  animals  is  dangerous  business.  Kit 
Carson  was  so  skillful  that  he  was  not  in  such  great 
dano-er  as  most  men  would  have  been  in  his  place.  But 
he  had  many  narrow  escapes.  Indeed  they  were  so 
common  that  he  did  not  talk  much  about  them. 

Of  one  hunting  adventure,  however,  he  was  always 
fond  of  telling.  The  story  of  that  adventure  gives  us 
an  idea  of  his  power  to  think  promptly  and  wisely  in 
moments  of  peril. 

He  was  among  the  Rocky  Mountains  trapping  with 
a  few  comrades.  At  the  close  of  a  day's  tramp  the  little 
party  went  into  camp.  While  the  other  men  were  pre- 
paring for  the  night,  Carson  started  off  to  hunt.  He 
was  hungry,  and  small  game  did  not  suit  his  fancy. 
Pretty  soon  his  practiced  eye  recognized  some  elk 
tracks.  He  followed  them  and  in  a  little  while  came  in 
sight  of  a  small  herd  not  far  from  a  clump  of  trees.  He 
tried  to  gain  the  trees  to  shoot  from  that  cover,  but  the 
elks  were  too  alert.  They  discovered  his  approach  and 
started.  He  leveled  his  gun  and  brought  down  one  of 
the  fleeing  animals. 

With  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  he  was  running  towards 
his  prey,  when  he  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  crackling 
brush.     He  looked  back  and  saw  two  huge  grizzly  bears 


HUNTING    IN    THE    ROCKIES. 


233 


rushing  towards  him.  His  gun  was  unloaded.  What 
should  he  do?  Kit  Carson  never  took  much  time  to 
make  up  his  mind.  He  now  stretched  every  nerve  to 
reach  the  trees.  "Why,  bears  can  climb  trees,''  you 
say.  Yes,  but  it  is  always  well  to  be  above  your  enemy, 
and  old  grizzlies  cannot  climb  very  well. 

Lifelong  practice  had  made  him  as  nimble  as  a  deer. 
He  reached  the  trees,  caught  a  limb  and  swung  up  into 
the  branches  while  the  bears  were  still  at  some  distance. 
They  were  not  running  with  steady  swing  now,  but 
bounding  forward  with  great  leaps.  In  a  moment  they 
would  reach  the  tree.  Kit  Carson  drew  his  hunting 
knife  and,  working  desperately,  cut  and  trimmed  a 
stout  club  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it. 

The  foremost  bear  started  up  the  tree.  Carson  stood 
waiting  in  the  fork  of  the  tree.  When  the  bear  got  near 
enough  he  gave  it  a  sharp  rap  on  the  nose,  for  he  knew 
that  a  bear's  nose  is  very  tender.  The  bear  gave  a  cry 
of  pain  and  backed  down  the  tree,  shaking  its  head. 
Then  the  other  tried  it  and  was  met  with  a  blow  of 
greater  violence.  He  also  retreated  and  his  brother  tried 
again.  Again  he  was  driven  back  roaring  with  pain. 
For  some  time  this  serious  yet  comical  conflict  was  kept 
up.  Then  the  great  creatures  lumbered  off  to  console 
themselves  with  Carson's  elk. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  he  ventured  from  his  tree. 
It  was  dark  when  he  got  to  the  camp,  and  the  disap- 
pointed trappers  were  obliged  to  sup  on  the  unpalatable 


2'iA  KIT    CARSON. 

beaver.  Carson's  story  gave  flavor  to  the  poor  supper 
and  no  one  complained. 

The  chief  article  of  food  on  the  plains  was  buffalo 
meat.  At  the  close  of  his  eight  years  at  Fort  Bent,  Kit 
Carson  could  count  the  buffaloes  he  had  killed  by  thou- 
sands. A  good  horse  was  needed  to  hunt  the  buffalo, 
one  that  was  swift  and  trained  to  the  work.  An  inex- 
perienced horse  is  frightened  by  the  great  ugly  animals 
and  cannot  be  managed.  Kit  Carson  always  rode  the 
finest  horses— creatures  that  seemed  to  share  their  rider's 
courage  and  love  of  sport. 

When  from  some  rise  of  ground  he  saw  a  herd  of  buf- 
faloes grazing  on  the  plains  he  advanced  easily  towards 
tlieni.  If  possible  he  approached  against  the  wind,  for 
the  buffalo's  sense  ot  smell  is  sharper  than  its  sight. 
As  soon  as  the  animals  discovered  his  presence  the  whole 
herd  was  in  motion.  It  ran  with  the  cows  and  calves  in 
the  center  of  the  herd.  Some  old  bulls  formed  front 
and  rear  guards.  The  hunter  preferred  the  cows,  be- 
cause their  flesh  was  more  tender  and  their  robes  were 
finer.  When  he  saw  that  he  was  discovered  he  dashed 
forward  with  all  possible  speed,  plunged  into  the  midst 
of  the  herd  and  singled  out  a  fine  fat  cow.  When  he 
got  close  to  the  buffalo  he  aimed  his  pistol  at  a  point 
back  of  the  shoulder  where  the  long  hair  of  the  mane 
ends.  If  Kit  Carson  fired  the  shot,  the  huge  creature 
gave  a  bound  and  fell  to  the  earth  dead. 

Without  checking  the  speed  of  his  horse  he  reloaded 


HUNTING  IN   THE   ROCKIES. 


235 


2^6 


KIT    CARSON. 


his  i)islol  and  overtook  another  choice  cow.  The  herd 
sometimes  led  the  rider  a  dangerous  chase  over  rough 
ground  matted  with  tall  grass  and  \anes.  If  the  game 
crossed  a  village  of  prairie  dogs  it  was  dangerous  for 
both  herd  and  hunter.  The  holes  burrowed  in  the  earth 
were  like  snares  catching  the  feet  of  the  flying  animals 
and  throwing  them. 

Sometimes  when  closely  pressed  a  buffalo  would  turn 
upon  the  hunter  and  charge  furiously.  He  made  a 
dreadful  looking  foe.  The  lowered  head,  the  erect, 
tufted  tail,  the  massive  shoulders,  the  shaggy  mane,  the 
curling  black  horns,  the  fiery  eyes,  the  protruding 
red  tongue,  expressed  power  and  fury  enough  to  frighten 
any  horse  into  his  nimblest  leap.  Before  the  disap- 
{xjinted  creature  could  recover  its  balance  and  renew 
the  attack  the  bullet  of  the  ready  hunter  had  pierced  a 
vital  part. 

On  wandering  hunting  trips  Carson  often  visited  the 
camps  of  various  Indian  tribes.  The  warriors  trusted 
him.  The\-  smoked  with  him  in  times  of  peace  and 
asked  his  help  in  times  of  war.  The  women  waited 
u|H)n  him  and  brought  him  their  choicest  food.  In  one 
tribe  there  was  an  Indian  maid  whose  face  was  bright 
with  joy  when  the  palefaced  hunter  visited  her  father's 
wigwam.  She  was  gentle  and  sweet.  This  man  who 
knew  no  women  of  his  own  race;  who  had  known  so 
little  that  was  gentle  and  sweet  in  all  his  life,  returned 
the  love  of  the  simple  Indian  girl.     He  married  her  and 


CARSON    AND    FREMONT.  237 

took  her  to  live  at  the  fort.  She  died  in  a  few  years, 
leaving  one  dark-eyed  httle  daughter.  Kit  loved  the 
child  tenderly,  and  not  wishing  her  to  grow  up  among 
the  other  rough,  half-Indian  children  around  the  fort, 
he  took  her  to  St.  Louis  and  placed  her  in  a  good  school. 


VIII. — Carson  and  Fremont. 

It  was  sixteen  years  since  Kit  Carson  had  left  his 
home  in  Missouri.  In  all  that  time  he  had  heard  noth- 
ing of  his  parents  or  brothers  and  sisters.  On  his  way 
to  St.  Louis  he  turned  aside  from  the  emigrant  road  to 
visit  the  old  settlement. 

Rip  Van  Winkle  did  not  find  greater  changes  after  his 
twenty  years'  sleep  in  the  mountains.  The  old  cabin 
was  a  deserted  ruin.  He  could  find  no  trace  of  the 
large  family  that  only  sixteen  years  before  had  over- 
crowded the  Httle  house.  Keenly  disappointed,  he  renewed 
his  journey  to  St.  Louis. 

The  city  sights  were  new  and  strange  to  him.  He 
stayed  in  St.  Louis  for  ten  days.  The  people  who 
passed  him  on  the  streets  httle  dreamed  that  this  quiet 
man  with  the  fine  head,  keen  eyes,  and  kind  smile  was 
the  terror  of  thieving  Indians  on  the  border.  He  was 
interested  in  city  Hfe  and  city  people,  but  he  longed  for 
more    sky,    more    air,    more    quiet,    more    freedom.      He 


2^8  KIT    CARSON. 

became  a  passenger  on  the  first  steamboat  going  west  on 
the  Missouri. 

There  were  many  passengers  on  the  boat,  but  one  man 
particularly  attracted  Carson's  attention.  He  soon 
made  the  acquaintance  of  the  distinguished  stranger 
and    found  that   he  was    Lieutenant  John  C.  Fremont, 

who  was  taking  a  party 
of  men  west  on  a  sur- 
veying and  exploring 
expedition.  His  guide 
had  failed  to  meet  him 
and  he  wished  to  find 
another. 

Carson  was  homesick 
for  the  mountains.  This 
was  his  opportunity. 
He  told  Mr.  Fremont 
that  he  was  acquainted 
with,  the  West,  and 
offered  to  accompany 
him  as  guide.  Mr. 
Fremont  was  a  cautious  man  and  not  very  ready  to 
make  friends  with  strangers.  But  he  liked  Carson;  he 
liked  his  face,  his  bearing,  his  conversation.  He  trusted 
him  and  accepted  his  offer. 

These  two  men,  both  to  become  so  well  known  all 
over  the  United  States  because  of  the  work  they  did 
together,  spent  many  hours  in  conversation.      Fremont 


JOHN    C.    FRKMOMT. 


CARSON    AND    FREMONT. 


239 


was  eager  for  information  about  the  West,  and  Carson 
had  plenty  to  give  him.  He  had  the  power,  too,  to  tell 
what  he  had  to  say  in  a  very  simple,  clear  way. 

The  party  left  the  boat  at  the  mouth  of  the  Kansas 
River.  In  the  month  of  June,  1842,  they  started  across 
the  plains,  following  the  river  valley.  Their  line  of 
march  was  north  and  west.  Carson  had  never  belonged 
to  a  company  that  carried  so  much  camp  baggage.  This 
one  had  canvas  tents  to  sleep  in  and  a  rubber  boat  with 
which  to  cross  streams.  These  were  luxuries  that  the 
hardy  trappers  did  not  care  to  be  bothered  with. 

There  were  twenty-eight  men  in  the  company,  plenty 
of  extra  horses  and  mules,  and  several  wagons.  Some 
of  the  men  were  taking  their  first  western  trip.  They 
were  made  very  uncomfortable  and  miserable  by  a  severe 
thunder  storm  which  flooded  their  tents  and  drenched 
their  beds.  That  seemed  a  slight  matter  to  a  man  like 
Carson,  whose  slumbers  were  not  easily  disturbed  by  a 
summer  rain. 

After  they  had  been  on  the  march  several  days  they 
reached  the  haunts  of  the  buffaloes.  At  first  they  saw 
them  in  scattered  herds.  Carson  and  the  other  old 
hunters  in  the  party  gave  the  new  men  their  first  lesson 
in  buffalo-hunting.  The  number  of  buffaloes  increased 
as  they  advanced.  A  moving  cloud  of  dust  darkened 
into  an  enormous  herd.  They  rushed  along,  thousands 
upon  thousands,  to  the  river.  They  filled  the  valley 
and  spread  over  the  plains.     The  herd  opened  and  went 


240  KIT    CARSON. 

around  Fremont's  camp.  The  hunters  rode  into  the 
midst  of  them  and  shot  down  cows  at  pleasure.  Those 
were  days  of  feasting.  Only  the  choicest  parts  of  the 
animals  were  eaten  and  there  were  tongues  and  marrow- 
bones enough  for  all. 

Day  after  day  the  party  journeyed  westward  over 
seemingly  endless  plains,  until  at  length  they  saw  along 
the  horizon  billows  of  hazy  amethysts  with  glorious 
shining  crests.  "The  Rockies,"  said  those  who  knew. 
"Hut  they  look  like  clouds,"  thought  the  new  men. 
Surely  those  soft,  resplendent  masses  could  not  be  the 
gnarled  and  jagged  Rockies.  For  a  long  time,  like 
clouds,  they  seemed  to  defy  approach,  but  gradually  the 
puq)Ie  of  their  bases  deepened  and  the  peaks  became 
more  dazzling.  At  last  the  travelers  got  near  enough  to 
see  the  black-green  forests  below  and  the  glittering  snow 
fields  above. 

The  mountain  slopes  were  clothed  with  majestic  pines 
and  firs.  Rills,  here  white  with  foam,  there  clear  as 
crystal,  leaj)t  over  stony  beds  down  the  mountain  side. 
Ferns  and  shrubs  waved  over  their  edges.  No  wonder 
Carson  loved  the  mountains  and  yearned  for  their  wild 
beauty.  He  explored  some  of  their  passes  with  Fre- 
mont. Then  the  latter,  having  done  the  work  he  was 
sent  to  do.  started  home. 

He  was  deei)l\-  impressed  with  Kit  Carson.  The  grace 
and  ])ower  of  the  man  delighted  him.  He  did  every- 
thir.g  he  attempted  so  well.     Fremont  said  he  had  never 


CARSON    AND   FREMONT. 


241 


seen  a  finer  display  of  horsemanship  than  when  Kit 
Carson,  mounted,  without  a  saddle,  on  a  fine  horse,  was 
scouring  bareheaded  over  the  prairies.  He  had  so  much 
knowledge  of  the  country  and  its  inhabitants.  He  was 
such  a  master  huntsman.  Then,  too,  his  character  was 
so  noble  and  upright.  The  two  men  said  good-by  with 
real  regret,  and  hoped  to  meet  again. 

On  his  return  from  this  expedition  Carson  was  em- 
ployed to  take  a  message  to  Santa  Fe.  There  had  been 
a  general  uprising  of  the  Indians  in  the  country  he  had 
to  cross  and  they  were  all  on  the  warpath.  He  could 
find  no  one  to  go  with  him.  So  he  went  alone,  choos- 
ing new  and  secret  ways.  Once  he  saw  a  tribe  of 
mounted  warriors  in  the  distance.  He  dropped  to  one 
side  of  his  horse  and  rode  holding  on  by  one  leg  till  he 
got  back  of  a  hill.  If  the  Indians  saw  the  galloping 
horse  they  must  have  thought  it  some  stray  wild 
pony. 

When  coming  back  with  a  young  Mexican  boy  he  met 
a  party  of  four  Indians.  One  large  one  dismounted  and 
walked  toward  him  with  outstretched  hand.  Carson 
did  the  same.  When  they  met,  the  treacherous  Indian 
with  a  sudden  movement  tried  to  twist  the  gun  from 
Carson's  hand.  Quick  as  thought,  Carson  dealt  him  a 
blow  between  the  eyes  with  clenched  fist  that  sent  him 
sprawling.  He  jumped  to  his  feet  and  ran  to  his  com- 
rades. Disconcerted  by  such  an  unexpected  show  of 
power,  they  rode  off  without  further  signs  of  fight. 


2^2  KIT    CARSON. 


After  a  long,  hard  ride  Carson  with  the  boy  reached 
Fort  Bent.  There  he  learned  that  Fremont  had  passed 
a  few  days  before  on  his  way  west.  He  wished  to  see 
him  again  and  set  out  to  try  to  overtake  him. 


IX. — West  with  Fremont. 

A  single  well-mounted  rider  can  travel  much  faster 
than  a  company  carrying  camp  baggage.  Carson  soon 
overtook  Fremont's  party.  Mr.  Fremont  was  glad  to 
see  him  again  and  urged  him  to  join  the  party  as 
guide.  He  was  planning  to  make  a  long  march  across 
mountains  and  plains  to  the  Pacific  coast. 

That  was  exactly  what  Carson  wanted  to  do.  He 
rode  back  to  Fort  Bent  to  get  mules  for  the  journey  over 
the  mountains;  arranged  his  private  afifairs,  and,  taking 
a  short  cut,  reached  the  appointed  meeting  place  before 
Fremont's  party. 

The  company  divided  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  only  the  hardiest  ventured  into  their 
rugged  defiles.  The  little  band  of  men  went  in  search 
of  a  more  convenient  wagon  way  across  the  mountains 
than  South  Pass.  They  did  not  succeed  in  finding  one 
and  were  obliged  to  follow  the  old  way  that  had  been 
traveled  by  many  emigrants  on  their  way  to  Oregon. 
They  followed  for  some  distance  the  emigrant  road,  a 
track    through   the  sage  bushes   worn  smooth   by  use. 


WEST    WITH    FREMONT.  243 

They  left  this  clearly  marked  way  to  explore  the  great 
inland  sea,  Salt  Lake.  Then  they  pushed  north  again 
to  Oregon. 

Through  all  the  long  journey  Kit  Carson  was  Fre- 
mont's right-hand  man.  It  was  Kit  Carson  who  rode 
into  the  starving  camp  with  an  antelope  over  his  horse's 
neck.  It  was  his  voice  that  sang  out  cheerily  to  the 
despairing  men  after  days  on  the  sage  bush  plains  with 
fainting  horses:  "Life  yet!  I've  found  a  hillside 
sprinkled  with  grass."  It  was  he  who  went  forward 
with  smiles  of  recognition  and  outstretched  hand  to 
claim  as  old  friends  hostile  chiefs  who  had  come  out 
to  make  war  on  the  little  company.  It  was  he  who 
sprang  into  the  icy  stream  to  rescue  his  struggling 
leader.  In  short,  Carson  was  the  guide,  the  peace- 
maker, and  supply  agent  of  the  expedition.  Mr.  Fre- 
mont did  not  see  how  he  could  have  gotten  along 
without  him,  and  made  him  promise  that  he  would  go 
with  him  on  his  next  expedition. 

Having  finished  their  work  on  the  Columbia  River 
they  started  across  the  Sierra  Nevada  to  California. 
The  snow  was  shoulder-deep  in  many  places.  It  was 
intensely  cold  on  the  bleak  mountain  heights.  Men 
and  animals  suffered  greatly.  A  path  had  to  be  made 
for  the  mules.  Ten  men  started  out  to  pack  down  the 
snow.  They  moved  in  single  file.  The  leader  had  the 
hardest  work.  He  kept  his  place  till  he  became 
exhausted.     Then  he  went  to  the  rear  of  the  line,  where 


2_|^^  KIT    CARSON. 

the  work  was  lightest,  and  the  second  man  became 
leader.  In  that  way  all  had  turns  at  the  light  and 
heavy  work. 

In'  order  to  get  a  camping  place  for  their  horses  and 
mules  they  built  great  fires  about  stumps  and  melted 
awav  the  snow.  They  made  their  own  beds  on  the 
snow.  They  put  down  a  bed  of  twigs  on  the  snow- 
crust,  then  spread  out  their  blankets.  With  feet  to  the 
fire,  they  slept  well  after  their  hard  work. 

The  first  day  they  made  good  progress.  But  they 
soon  got  tired  out  and  advanced  more  slowly.  At  last, 
however,  they  reached  Fort  Sutter,  where  they  had 
plenty  of  food  and  got  new  horses.  This  was  in  the 
spring  of  i<S44. 

On  the  return  an  incident  happened  which  gives  us  a 
glimpse  of  tlie  generosity  and  daring  of  Kit  Carson. 
They  met  a  Mexican  man  and  boy  alone  and  in  great 
grief  An  Indian  band  of  thirty  braves  had  captured 
their  friends  and  horses.  When  Kit  Carson  heard  that, 
he  started  after  the  Indians  with  one  comrade.  The 
two  men  rode  all  night  and  discovered  the  Indian  camp 
at  daybreak.  Giving  a  terrible  warwhoop  they  rushed 
into  the  camp,  where  the  savages  were  just  getting  up 
and  j)reparing  breakfast.  Carson  singled  out  the  chief, 
and  he  fell  first.  Having  discharged  their  rifles  the  two 
men  drew  their  pistols. 

Without  waiting  to  see  how  many  had  attacked  them 
the    terrified    .savages    fled    without    guns    or    clothing. 


AGAIN   ON  THE   MARCH.  245 

Carson  and  his  companion  collected  the  stolen  horses 
and  assured  themselves  that  the  captives  had  been 
murdered.  As  they  could  do  no  more,  they  rode  back 
and  gave  the  Mexicans  their  horses  and  told  them  the 
sad  fate  of  their  friends. 

These  heroic  men  had  ridden  one  himdred  miles  in 
thirty  hours,  routed  thirty  Indians  and  recovered  fifteen 
horses.  They  had  done  it  all  out  of  the  kiadness  of 
their  hearts  to  help  strangers  in  distress. 


X. — Again  on  the  March. 

When  Kit  Carson  left  Lieutenant  Fremont  he  decided 
to  go  to  farming.  A  short  time  before  starting  on  the 
last  expedition  he  had  married  a  beautiful  young  Span- 
ish lady  and  he  now  began  to  think  of  settling  down  in 
a  home  of  his  own. 

He  bought  a  large  tract  of  land  for  a  stock  farm  and 
began  to  put  up  his  house  and  barns.  Just  as  he  was 
making  good  headway  in  this  work  a  messenger  arrived 
from  Fremont.  Carson  was  reminded  of  his  promise  to 
join  Fremont  on  his  next  expedition,  and  urged  to  keep 
his  word,  as  the  explorer  was  ready  to  enter  upon  his 
third  journey. 

Carson  sold  his  farm  at  a  loss,  and  in  company  with-  a 
tried  friend  and  old  trapper  went  at  once  to  join  Fre- 
mont.     Fremont  said   aflfectionately,     "This   was  like 


>46 


KIT    CARSON. 


Carson,  prompt,  self-sacrificing,  and  true. "  Of  the  man 
that  accompanied  Carson,  he  wrote:  "  That  Owens  is  a 
good  man;  it  is  enough  to  say  that  he  and  Carson 
are  friends.'' 

The  purpose  of  this  trip  was  to  explore  the  Great 
Basin,  a  region  never  before  crossed  by  white  man,  and 
looked  upon  by  Indians  as  an  impassable  desert.  The 
explorers  found  that  it  was  not  so  bad  as  report  had 
represented  it.  Instead  of  being  a  level  waste  of  sand  it 
was  crossed  by  numerous  ridges  of  mountains.  There 
were  occasional  springs  and  streams  of  fresh  water, 
where  grass  grew  in  small  patches.  These  oases  were 
not  very  numerous,  however,  and  the  whole  company 
did  not  venture  to  advance,  trusting  to  luck  to  find 
good  camping  grounds. 

Carson  and  a  few  other  mountaineers  were  sent  ahead 
to  find  grass  and  water.  When  one  discovered  an  oasis 
he  built  a  fire.  The  men  watching  at  the  old  camp  saw 
tlie  smoke  curling  up  against  the  clear  sky.  All  hands 
fell  to  work  to  break  up  camp  and  get  the  caravan  in 
marching  order.  In  a  few  hours  the  entire  company 
was  winding  its  way  across  the  desert  to  the  signal 
smoke.  When  one  of  the  men  found  a  fine  camping 
ground,  Fremont  named  the  place  in  honor  of  the  dis- 
coverer. M:iny  a  clear  stream  in  the  Great  Basin  bears 
the  name  of  our  hero. 

In  this  region  the  only  Indians  met  with  were  tribes 
of    "Digger"    Indians.      They    were   poor,    ignorant, 


AGAIN    ON    THE    MARCH.  247 

timid  creatures,  who  lived  in  holes  and  fed  on  roots  and 
berries.  They  seemed  little  better  than  animals.  The 
explorers  pitied  them  and  tried  to  gain  their  confi- 
dence. 

When  in  the  northern  part  of  California  they  were 
attacked  by  a  thousand  painted  braves.  These  Indians 
were  armed  only  with  arrows.  Fremont's  little  band  of 
sharpshooting  riflemen  soon  proved  to  them  that  a  man 
armed  with  a  bow  is  no  match  for  a  man  armed  with  a 
gun. 

Not  long  afterv/ards  the  party  found  other  use  for  their 
rifles.  Mexico  and  the  United  States  were  at  war. 
Fremont  converted  his  explorers  into  soldiers.  Trap- 
pers and  hunters  from  far  and  near  joined  them,  and 
he  soon  found  himself  at  the  head  of  a  regiment  of 
mountaineers. 

It  became  necessary  for  him  to  send  word  to  Wash- 
ington. Carson  was  chosen  to  carry  the  dispatches. 
Colonel  Fremont's  dispatches  were  brief,  for,  said  he, 
"  Carson  had  been  so  a  part  of  all  my  life  for  the  past 
eighteen  months,  my  letters  were  chiefly  indications  of 
points  which  he  would  tell  them  in  full."  This  shows 
the  confidence  the  great  explorer  had  in  the  honesty, 
intelligence,  and  ability  of  the  unschooled  moun- 
taineer. 

When  Carson  had  completed  the  most  dangerous  part 
of  the  journey,  he  met  General  Kearny  at  the  head  of  a 
body  of  United  States  troops,  on  the  way  to  California. 


2^8  KIT    CARSON. 

He  requested  Carson  to  intrust  the  dispatches  to  another 
bearer  and  go  back  with  him  as  guide.  Carson  was 
unwilling  to  give  up  the  dispatches  and  refused  to  do  so. 
Then  the  general  commanded  him,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  obey.     He  got  back  in  time  to  take  an  active  part  in 

the  war. 

In  March,  1847,  Carson  was  again  sent  to  Washing- 
ton with  dispatches.  This  time  he  completed  the  jour- 
iiev.  Colonel  Fremont  gave  further  evidence  of  his 
hi<,di  regard  for  Carson.  He  notified  his  family  of  the 
coming  of  his  friend.  His  married  daughter  in  St. 
Louis  and  ]\Irs.  Fremont  in  Washington  entertained 
him  and  showed  him  every  possible  courtesy.  They 
met  the  mountaineer  at  the  depot  with  a  carriage. 
They  gave  dinners  for  him.  They  introduced  him  to 
the  best  society  of  the  two  cities.  The  man  from  the 
wilderness  did  not  appear  out  of  place  in  a  drawing- 
room.  These  refined,  cultured  people  were  as  delighted 
with  him  as  Colonel  Fremont  had  been.  They  were 
not  interested  in  him  because  he  was  odd.  They  loved 
him  because  he  was  loyal  and  true  and  brave. 

Senator  Benton  of  ^Missouri  was  so  impressed  with  the 
man  that  he  gave  him  this  high  praise:  "To  me,  Kit 
Carson  and  truth  mean  the  same." 

After  his  return  to  the  West,  Carson  was  once  more 
sent  to  Washington  with  dispatches.  He  made  a  pleas- 
ant visit  in  that  city,  then  went  back  to  Taos  to  make 
his  home  there. 


AT   HOME.  249 

XI. — At  Home. 

The  earlier  part  of  Carson's  life  had  been  spent  in 
forts  and  camps.  In  his  later  years  he  could  enjoy, 
when  he  cared  to,  the  restful  quiet  of  a  happy  home. 
Indeed  he  had  two  comfortable  homes. 

One  was  a  one-storied  dwelling  of  sun-dried  brick 
facing  the  public  square  of  Taos.  When  he  was  there 
its  doors  were  always  open  to  trappers,  traders,  and 
Indians.  All  liked  him.  Old  trappers  made  his  home 
a  sort  of  meeting  place  where  they  could  gather  and  talk 
over  old  times.  The  Indians  called  him  "Father  Kit," 
and  came  from  far  and  near  to  see  him.  He  always 
greeted  them  with  the  formal  courtesy  they  liked,  and 
made  them  very  welcome. 

Besides  this  "town  house"  he  had  a  large  farm,  or 
ranch,  in  a  fertile  valley  forty  miles  away.  Here,  in  a 
fine,  comfortable  house,  with  his  beautiful  Spanish  wife 
and  happy  little  ones,  and  waited  upon  by  faithful 
servants,  he  could  live  as  easily  and  pleasantly  as  he 
wished. 

Colonel  Fremont  tells  about  visiting  Carson  on  his 
ranch.  He  had  been  on  a  long,  hard  expedition  and 
Carson's  home  seemed  very  luxurious.  In  writing  to 
his  wife  he  told  her  what  a  careful  host  his  old  comrade 
made,  and  mentioned  particularly  the  delicious  cup  of 
hot  chocolate  that  was  brought  to  his  room  every 
morning. 

Carson  was  an  active  man  and  liked  movement  and 


oro  KIT   CARSON. 

adventure.  He  kept  excellent  horses,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing, after  riding  over  his  farm  to  see  that  all  was  in  good 
order,  he  frequently  went  out  to  spend  the  day  in  hunt- 
ing. For  the  flesh  of  wild  game  was  sweeter  for  him 
than  the  tender  shoulders  of  mutton  from  his  own  sheep 
or  the  juicy  roasts  of  beef  that  the  fat  young  steers  of 
his  ranch  furnished. 

His  days  of  long  expeditions  were  by  no  means  over. 
In  1853  he,  with  some  Mexican  drovers,  drove  six  thou- 
sand five  hundred  sheep  to  California.  You  may  be 
sure  he  did  not  follow  the  route  across  the  desert  by 
wliich   he  first  went  to  California. 

The  sheep  were  first  driven  to  Fort  Laramie,  and  then 
along  the  regular  emigrant  road  past  Salt  Lake  and 
onward  through  what  is  now  the  state  of  Nevada.  No 
one  who  was  a  stranger  to  the  country  could  have  taken 
them  over  this  route.  But  Carson  knew  where  he  would 
find  water  and  good  pasturage,  and  so  he  succeeded  in 
getting  nearly  all  the  sheep  safely  over  into  the  green 
valley  oftlie  San  Joaquin. 

Of  course  these  animals  could  travel  but  very  slowly 
and  the  journey  occupied  several  weeks;  but  to  Carson 
and  his  Mexican  drovers  time  was  of  little  value;  and  no 
sooner  had  they  reached  the  settlements  in  California 
tlian  tlicy  were  able  to  sell  their  flocks  at  a  very  great 
profit. 

Before  returning  home,  Kit  Carson  went  down  the 
Sacramento  valley  to  San  Francisco  to  see  the  wonderful 


AT   HOME.  251 

changes  which  had  been  made  since  his  first  visit  to  that 
place.  At  this  time  almost  everybody  in  California  was 
hunting  for  gold,  and  the  whole  valley  was  dotted  with 
busy  mining  camps. 

San  Francisco,  which  was  a  straggling  little  village 
when  Carson  had  last  seen  it,  was  now  a  bustling  city 
with  thirty-five  thousand  inhabitants.  Had  he  not 
recognized  the  hills  which  stood  back  of  it,  he  would 
not  have  believed  that  it  was  the  same  place. 

Here  Carson  was  greeted  by  many  old  friends  and  by 
many  strangers  who  had  heard  of  him  and  wanted  to  do 
him  honor.  The  attentions  which  these  people  gave 
him  were  well-intended,  but  they  were  far  from  being 
agreeable  to  him.  He  had  hoped  to  find  here  a  quiet 
place  where  he  might  rest  after  the  toil  of  his  long 
journey  over  the  mountains.  But  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  quiet  in  San  Francisco,  and  his  friends  would 
not  let  him  rest.  They  tried  to  tempt  him  into  all 
sorts  of  dissipation;  they  invited  him  to  join  them  at 
the  gambling-table  and  in  their  drinking  bouts  and 
lawless  carousals.  But  Kit  Carson  was  a  man  of  too 
sound  principles  to  be  led  astray  by  such  temptations. 
"  No,  my  friends,  my  habits  of  life  are  different  from 
yours,  and  I  do  not  care  to  change  them.  I  cannot  join 
you  in  these  things." 

And  so  when,  a  few  days  later,  he  took  his  departure 
from  the  new  city,  he  left  it  having  a  character  as  pure 
and  a  conscience  as  clean  as  when  he  had  entered  it ; 


252  KIT    CARSON. 

and  those  who  had  been  foremost  in  urging  him  to  do 
wrong  honored  him  for  his  courage  and  his  steadfast 
adherence  to  principle. 

One  summer  Carson  took  fifty  horses  and  mules  to 
Fort  Laramie,  five  hundred  miles  away.  At  another 
time  he  organized  a  large  trapping  party  of  old  com- 
rades and  lived  over  old  days,  in  old  places,  with  old 
friends. 

They  dashed  across  the  plains  to  the  South  Platte 
River,  and  there,  in  the  same  region  where  they  had 
trapped  and  hunted  in  their  younger  days,  they  pitched 
their  camp.  Then  followed  a  summer  of  rare  enjoy- 
ment. Beavers  were  plentiful,  for  the  business  of  trap- 
ping had  fallen  into  disuse,  and  these  animals  had  been 
little  disturbed  for  several  years.  Carson  and  his  friends 
were  surprised  at  their  success,  and  they  worked  with 
just  as  much  energy  as  when,  long  ago,  they  had  trapped 
fur  a  livelihood. 

After  spending  some  weeks  in  the  valley  of  the  Platte, 
tliey  worked  their  way  gradually  southward  through  the 
great  mountain  parks.  They  visited  all  their  old  re- 
sorts, and  set  their  traps  along  the  same  mountain 
brooks  where  they  had  had  such  varying  success  in 
their  younger  days. 

In  one  of  the  mountain  glens  they  came  upon  a  huge 
grizzly,  which  they  caught  with  a  lasso.  But  the  sav- 
age fellow  gave  them  so  much  trouble  that  they  were 
obliged  soon  to  kill  him  ;  and  the  next  day,  which  was 


AT    HOME. 


253 


the  I^ourth  of  July,  they  feasted  on  bear  steaks,  and  cele- 
brated the  independence  of  our  country  in  true  trapper 
fashion. 

At  the  close  of  the  summer,  the  party  returned  to 
Taos  loaded  with  furs  and  feeling  that  they  had  truly 
renewed  their  youth.  To  most  of  them  this  summer  of 
adventures,  so  full  of  wild  enjoyment,  proved  to  be  the 
end  of  their  trapping  experiences. 

In  the  Civil  War,  Carson  was  made  colonel  of  a  regi- 
ment of  New  Mexican  volunteers.  It  is  said  that  when 
he  led  his  regiment  against  the  rebellious  Navajo 
Indians,  he  left  camp  early  in  the  morning  with  a  few 
Indian  scouts  and  did  all  the  fighting  before  the  regi- 
ment, in  charge  of  the  lieutenant-colonel,  arrived  on 
the  scene. 

For  many  years  he  served  as  Indian  agent.  He  was 
a  good  one.  He  understood  the  Indians,  and  wished  to 
see  them  justly  treated.  They  knew  that  he  was  their 
friend,  and  he  had  great  influence  with  them.  Some- 
times he  went  unattended  to  the  council  of  Indians 
planning  war,  and  talked  to  them  so  simply  and  kindly 
that  they  chose  peace  rather  than  bloodshed.  He 
smoked  the  peace  pipe  with  them,  and  they  vowed  to 
be  his  friends  as   long  as  life  endured. 

But  even  Carson  could  not  change  the  revengeful 
nature  of  the  Indians.  Nor  could  he  make  right  all  the 
wrongs  the  tribes  had  suffered  from  unprincipled  white 
men.     Frequent  and  terrible  uprisings  kept  the  settlers 


254 


KIT    CARSON. 


on 


tlie  frontier  in  uneasiness.  Carson  was  prompt  to 
punish  such  offenses,  and,  while  the  peaceful  Indians 
loved  him,  the  lawless  and  treacherous  feared  him. 

A  writer  who  once  visited  him  at  Taos  thus  describes 
his  manner  of  life  during  this  period:  ''  While  he  spends 
as  much  of  his  time  as  possible  at  his  ranch, 
the  duties  of  his  office  compel 
him  to  spend  most  of  it  in 
Taos.       The    thousand 


kindly  acts  he  is  able 

form   tor 

d  i  a  n   s 

cured 

for  him- 

now    he 

protec- 

he  is   known — and  what  In- 

Mexico  does  not  know  him  ? 


to    per- 
the  In- 
have  se- 
such  regard 
self   that 
needs  no 
tion    where 
dianin  New 
He  goes  among  them  and 


entertains  them  as  the  children  of  his  charge,  having 
their  unbounded  confidence  and  love. 

"  Every  year,  in  the  hey-day  of  the  season,  Carson 
claims  the  luxury  of  another  revival  of  earlier  associa- 
tions, in  a  few  days,  or  perhaps  weeks,  spent  in  the 
chase.  In  these  excursions  he  is  joined  by  some  of  his 
old  compeers,  as  well  as  by  later  acquired  friends  and 
men  of  reputation  and  culture — chance  visitors  to 
Taos— and  by  a  select  few  of  the  Indian  braves  from 
the  tribes  under  his  charge." 


AT   HOME  255 

In  the  last  years  of  his  life  he  had  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  white  men,  as  well  as  red,  respected  the 
work  he  had  done ;  of  knowing  that  he  was  the 
acknowledged  hero  of  the  Rockies.  In  his  last  illness 
his  friend  and  physician  read  aloud  to  him  the  history 
of  his  life,  which  had  just  been  published.  He  enjoyed 
listening  to  the  account  of  his  adventures,  but  with 
characteristic  modesty  wondered  that  any  one  should 
think  it  worth  while  to  record  them  in  a  book. 

He  died  at  the  age  of  sixty,  not  far  from  the 
mountains  he  loved. 

Tales  as  wonderful  as  fairy  legends  are  told  about 
this  hero  of  the  Rockies  by  the  natives  of  those  rugged 
heights.  And  we  shall  not  soon  forget  this  prince  of 
mountaineers,  "nature's  nobleman,"  who,  when  there 
were  none  to  know,  in  the  depths  of  the  wilderness, 
still  thought  it  worth  while  to  be  brave,  true,  and 
manly. 


L  '  ' 


